cappuccino on table

“What can I get you to drink this morning?”  She was tall and thin with mid-length hair pulled back tight against her head to form a small pony tail in the back.  A few strands pulled free from the bonds of the rubber band to fall across her forehead and threaten her eyes.

“Just a cappuccino please,” I replied.  “Oh, and a water.  That should do me for this morning.”  She disappeared around the corner, leaving me alone with a view of the street beyond my red cloth covered table.

The restaurant, more of a cafe really, was small with a dining room, deck, and a pastry case boasting all sorts of Italian sweets.  I gave them a good inspection upon arrival.  Tempting as they were, I pushed them from my thoughts, took a seat outside, and scanned the menu.

It offered omelets, among other things, all which sounded quite good, and for a brief moment I entertained the thought of eating.  No, had it not been for the bagel before leaving home, I would order.  But it was a blueberry bagel, and it was good so I didn’t beat myself up too bad.

“Just a cappuccino,” had been my answer to breakfast.

Perhaps I should have forgone the bagel in favor for a half hour more sleep, but how was I to know the choices that I would have set before me.  Given the information at available at the time though, I made what I thought was the best decision.

Looking back, perhaps I was wrong.  Ah, the power of hindsight.

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