There's a middle-aged Chinese man sitting on the bench outside Joe Coffee. He has the tiniest shoulders, which are neatly tucked inside his blue-grey polo shirt. His right leg is flopped over his left, and his right foot, tied too-tightly into a worn, black leather boxing shoe, flexes up and down.
A middle-aged husky woman, turns into the shop. Her hair is piled on top of her head, with different tones of gold and brown knotted messily on both sides of a stretchy, black head band. The edges of her bulky calves glitter--a Lululemon logo, reflective silver against the black.
An older man in an old, red running shirt checks his phone while a demitasse of espresso waits half-sipped to his left. His running shoes are electric blue, with that reflective detailing. His ankle socks are black, with orange. The back of his head is clean-cut and still wet with sweat. His upper arms are matted with soft, dark hair. He jerks up, slides Bose headphones up from his collar, over his ears. He turns, walks out the door, looks left, looks right. He waits for it. Then leaves.
After he's gone, the espresso and its plate and spoon remain for less than a minute before a young, fleshy boy in a salmon-pink tee takes them away.
