By laurel ahlfeld drama_queen_ja@hotmail.com
Date: 25 February 2001
The Corner Cafe
Two ladies could be seen every Monday at the corner café in the middle of town. They talked of business, family, and dreams over a cup of noontime coffee, but mostly they shared stories of weekend rendezvous. On one particular Monday towards the end of a strangely mild winter, I found them framed by a stained glass window away from most of the hurried businessmen and tourists. One held a cup of decaf in her long slender hands, eyes wide with fascination. Her companion stared dreamily into a mug of dark liquid, tracing the rim with her delicate finger, moving her lips in a more leisurely fashion than usual. Every few minutes she would look outside past the rushing traffic and into the serene sky. She would let a slight smile pass her lips then continue on with her story. Intrigued by the unusual sighting, I crossed the street and casually took a seat in the table adjacent to them. Breaking from my typical people watching routine, I allowed myself to eavesdrop on their conversation. "Is it love?" the first woman asked. The other looked out the window, smiled, and said, "I highly doubt it." Confused her friend pursued a more solid answer. "Well, then why are you talking like this?" Her friend hesitated a moment and looked her inquirer in the eye for the first time that hour. Her eyes twinkled and glistened with a mischievous kind of pleasure. She replied, "If love is the wanting, confining, jealous, bittersweet thing I've been told about my whole life, the this feeling of contentment, freedom, and pure pleasure cannot be love. It is so much sweeter." I picked up my purse and walked out of the café much wiser than when I entered.
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