The tiny round table I'm occupying is bumped from the side. The entire piece wobbles before it drops back into place with a clang. Hot chocolate splashes over the side of my white paper cup and spills on the papers beside it. Wonderful.
The offender looks over her shoulder with a quick, "Sorry," sent my way as she shuffles her gigantic purse over her shoulder, jarring another patron on her way out. I'm willing to admit coming to a busy coffee shop on a Saturday morning to try and get some work done may not have been my best idea.
I'm not even by the door, but every few minutes someone bumps my black padded chair or nudges the small table I've precariously balanced all my supplies on. I tried to work at home this morning, but it turns out reading about dog food trends over the last twenty
