"This is an instruction manuel. Look, it's you! Are you going to drive a tractor?"
Mother, daughter. Wearing teal, pink. Talking about tractors, daughter wearing a plastic hardhat.
"Got your Americano right here."
"Sophie, did you get your coffee yet?"
"Then you just say, what the hell is that?"
Water runs, runs and then tap, tap the grinds out.
"Mommy?" says the daughter. She drinks her orange juice.
"So, I think we're ready," says a man. "Basically, all we've gotta do is..." the grinder starts. Crunching ice, caramel, coffee together until it's smooth.
Three middle-aged men together at a table, one bright light shining above their heads. Everyone talking, discussing.
"Is mommy driving the tractor?"
"Nooo, mommy! I am!"
Two people to the left, sitting. She is wearing blue-striped headwear, a knitted shawl. She speaks and her left hand tells the story, too. He leans in. Glasses atop his head, right hand moving about.
A boy, alone at a table. Gets up to ask for a refill.
"I have a quiche, a quiche!" says the barista.
"Gettin' some stuff done?" asks another one.
"Mama, mama! I love you mommy. Up, mommy."
"Ok, but mommy's doing five things right now. Do you want to help mommy? You can tell me all about this crayon. And I'm going to write something on this computer."
"Hold, mommy. Hold, mommy! Hold..."
"You want to hold mommy?"
"Yeah."
I look over. The mother is holding her daughter, cheeks against each other, kissing the little girl's hand.
It's busy, so busy in here. Loud, hardly any music. There are over 20 people in this small space. Talking, laughing, huddled, quiet, reading, discussing, drinking, typing, eating, coming, leaving.
It works like this: people gather around something wonderful and life happens.
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