By Alice Cimino
How do you know me so well? “Yes, please.”
As yesterday, and the day before. And since the first.
She plays with the machine’s setting. “You come here often.”
“You must like the view on the park.”
Another nod, less convinced. The view, yeah. Not the park’s, though. I have a mission.
Her gaze is called away by the coffee maker’s ring. She hands me the polystyrene cup, and curls her lips in a smile.
A single-dimpled smile.
I wave, and turn away, my heart drumming loudly.
Alice is a multilingual teenager with too many thoughts crossing her mind. To avoid saturation, she has to spill her words on paper.