“Interesting place,” I comment, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my tone.
Her lips make that quirk again; a sort of half-smile that would make the Mona Lisa long to be more subtle with her body language.
She chooses a table by the window, speaking in a low voice. Humour dances at the corners of her eyes. “It’s always interesting. Some of them can be quite profound. Some of them wouldn’t know their ass from their elbow. But there’s always cheap entertainment to be had here for the price of a coffee.”
“Speaking of which?”
“Latte, please.”
By the time I return to the table with two lattes, she’s listening in to a conversation on the next table. As I sit, she raises a finger to her lips, making it look as though she is pausing for comment but rolling her eyes back at the group behind….
