Was this the first time she’d genuinely smiled today? Maybe.
Her coffee was cold. That would be all the stirring round and round. She wasn’t going to drink it, anyway. And the train would be pulling in soon.
Up wafted the smell of coffee again. She held her stomach, closed her eyes and set sail to the country of the coffee beans, letting the breeze that streamed in from the station platform carry her mind, such as it was, across the sea to distant lands, rolling and waving over the water. She saw exotic men in white ties looming up at her; they changed into men in green smocks, bending over her; then everything disappeared into nothingness. Her little boat didn’t know which way to steer. Where was she going?
The spoon slipped from her fingers and the image was broken. She wasn’t a drift
