Crinkled Paper and Tears
The Mystery Woman

Anticipating an impending storm, I linger inside an empty café and ask for another cup of green tea. My mind is racing. I can't capture a coherent thought. Memories of better days battle with present turmoil and future possibilities. All attempts to stop the revolving tape are useless - but I continue to try. Fortunately, a woman pacing frantically outside distracts me from sinking deeper into a senseless rut. 

She enters through the side door and selects a booth hidden in the corner. Facing me, she stares at a crinkled piece of paper, and tears roll down her cheeks. The waitress brings her an espresso and immediately backs away. Could this scene have been staged? For sure, she is a regular customer.

All my woes disappear as I visually embrace the woman across the room. At first, I did not notice the crumpled plastic bags and one small suitcase crammed under her table. But once I do, I can't help wondering about her story. Who is she, where is she from, and to where is she running? Or is she at peace here? I will never know.

Could it be she calls this shabby café - home?

The sun breaks through the dark clouds, and I leave all internal battles behind as I exit. My walk home is slow and solemn.