AROUND THE CAFÉ is an unappealing mess when I arrive for another day of my part-time job. I get goosebumps as soon as I see some of the café tables and chairs arrange unfriendly upside-down. There are pieces of kitchen utensils scattered on the floor, which makes me difficult to go on the counter. What happened here?
It is the first Tuesday of November, the same day my mother and father arrive from their date in Michigan, and also the day the holiday ends. Far surprised on what I see on the inside, as I walk through the pieces of broken cups and saucers, I ask Mrs Linda, the café manager, about all the mess. Not far from the counter, she is incensing as she wipes the floor with a white cloth that turns already into brown. Most certain, it is because of the coffee
