#033 Vignette

The cafe's window is a vignette into the life of the Parisian man pacing around outside with an empty coffee machine in hand.

Before I can wonder what he's doing, a woman on a bike stops next to him. She trades a handful of euros for the machine. It still has some water in it. She shakes it out before strapping it into the bike's children's seat.

Distracted by the tale unfolding before me, I tip my cup towards my lips. I curse colourfully when coffee spills all over me. Maybe now I've become the story of someone else's vignette.