29
"Here's your coffee order."
"Ah, thank you."
As the server placed the coffee on the table, Ezra's attention was immediately drawn to the coffee swaying in the cup. He rarely bought coffee outside, preferring to make his own. And the reason he was here now was his sense of restlessness.
From time to time, he caught himself stealing glances to the side, at the transparent glass window facing the street. The cafe was conveniently close to his apartment, just a brief stroll away— and Ezra's eyes remained far from still, consistently darting toward the relatively quiet street. Perhaps it was the encroaching overcast sky, coupled with the fact lunchtime had passed. The people in the cafe were few, easily countable by hands. Most of them were schoolgirls who had just returned from school, chatting and laughing with each other. Their laughter even reached his secluded table.