The Occasional Tipper

A man sat at the table adjacent to mine. 

He wore this simple solid coloured shirt, the fabric looked like cotton from where I was sitting.

How to identify fabric without touching it?

Okay, maybe linen.

Didn't you almost always wear pastel colours too? 

He sipped on what looked like herbal tea from a translucent short glass while staying thoroughly engrossed in a book. 

'Dean Koontz Strangers' the cover read. 

His cellphone had rung a total of 7 times in the last hour.

He would look at the screen and silence the call.

Wonder why he wouldn't turn his ringer off.

Perhaps a lovers' tiff? 

Or maybe a relentless credit card company representative.

I watched the man behind the counter who tried to look busy even on a relatively less crowded day. 

My eyes moved to the clock above the counter on the wall. 

A quarter past seven. 

"Do you have a physical menu? I've left my phone in the hotel room and can't scan the code 

for the digital copy," I looked to my left and saw a youngish-looking, tall woman speaking to the server at her table.

She wore this long dress with a waist belt that added shape to the otherwise ill-fitting outfit.

My thoughts were interrupted by the server who laid the cup of latte I'd ordered on the table.

I looked down at it as he left.

There was a leaf design in the foam.

Reminded me of my month-long stint at being a barista.

Or an attempt!?

Fun, I thought as I dropped a cube of sugar in the cup

and stirred the leaf away.

I looked up and at the woman again. 

She carefully sifted through the pages of the menu. 

She had what seemed like a charming face.

One that you could wake up to, you know?

Or maybe she just looked a lot like you.

I impatiently looked down to check the time. 

Ten minutes to nine. 

A teenage couple entered the gate on a scooter.

Parked it in the stand to the right of the entrance.

They walked inside hand-in-hand and

sat at a visible corner table. 

The server gave the boy a nod and a few minutes later, brought 2 pints of beer and poured them into glasses.

The girl made a sour face as she put down the glass after a quick sip while the boy looked at her and laughed.

"You don't like beer, do you?" he asked.

She hit his shoulder playfully.

You, on the other hand, loved beer.

I looked at my watch. 

Half-past ten. 

Slightly irritated, I closed the book that I'd been pretending to read. 

Picked up my messenger bag and got up to leave. 

Five cups of latte over 4 restless hours and still no sign of you. 

Looks like you had other plans today. 

I went to the counter to pay the bill and decided against leaving a tip. 

Tips were only for when you visited the cafe.