Espresso + Cafe

the murmur of the espresso machine grumbling like an old parent in the dark, hissing with the notes unrecognizable, a cold steam wand sputters spfft spfft spittle, neither acknowledging the dawn greeting the cap in the window curtains.

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Your soft gliding stride traces lines in the cafe floor, floating back and forth between an ice chest and the espresso machine, calling orders into the steam wands kiss, flipping mugs and milk pitchers onto the asteric shaped cleaner, everything in a rhythm sploosh - hiss - crunch - cup - pour - coffee starts draining, your voice again carries between each gap in the sound to call a name, call a drink, twirling, your feet hardly ever gracing the floor