Through My Eyes, chapter 1
[u] Oxford St Cafe, Sydney, Australia [/u]
As I wipe the table down and pick up the plate of the last customer- a thin man with long brown hair- I look up and watch a group of guys now walking into the cafe, talking and laughing. They sit down in a corner, and one with brown hair makes some remark that makes the other three roar with laughter.
Returning behind the counter, I deposit the plate and pick up a couple of menus, taking them over to the newly-arrived party. I recite the specials, all the while studying them. It's the one interesting thing about being a waitress, and it's how I get through the day. Observing the customers. The one closest to me has short brown hair, a friendly expression and twinkly blue eyes. The one next to him has short mussed black hair and is wearing thick black eyeliner. Sitting opposite him is a taller guy with spiked black hair and sideburns, wearing a singlet to reveal his very colourful arms. Next to Sideburns is a man with toffee-coloured hair, and another pair of bright blue eyes. He too is wearing eyeliner, but not as much as Black-Hair.
I finish my recital, they nod and smile, and I turn back to the counter, picking up a couple of empty coffee cups from a now-empty table on the way. Five minutes later, I go back and ask if they've decided. Apparantly they have.
Twinkly just wants a flat white, while Eyeliner requires a glass of sparkling water and a garden salad. Sideburns wants an espresso and a smal chocolate cake, and Toffee asks for a coke and a chocolate biscotti. They're obviously just here for a snack. I note, too, strong American accents from all of them and they are, by the look of their clothes, pretty well off, too. I take down their orders and return several minutes later with a tray and the drinks, then return to get the food.
Half an hour later, the party asks for the bill, pay for their meal, and leave into the buy, sunshine-flooded street. I stare after them for a moment, then jerk myself out of my trance to go and help a man whose coffee is apparantly too milky.
As I wipe the table down and pick up the plate of the last customer- a thin man with long brown hair- I look up and watch a group of guys now walking into the cafe, talking and laughing. They sit down in a corner, and one with brown hair makes some remark that makes the other three roar with laughter.
Returning behind the counter, I deposit the plate and pick up a couple of menus, taking them over to the newly-arrived party. I recite the specials, all the while studying them. It's the one interesting thing about being a waitress, and it's how I get through the day. Observing the customers. The one closest to me has short brown hair, a friendly expression and twinkly blue eyes. The one next to him has short mussed black hair and is wearing thick black eyeliner. Sitting opposite him is a taller guy with spiked black hair and sideburns, wearing a singlet to reveal his very colourful arms. Next to Sideburns is a man with toffee-coloured hair, and another pair of bright blue eyes. He too is wearing eyeliner, but not as much as Black-Hair.
I finish my recital, they nod and smile, and I turn back to the counter, picking up a couple of empty coffee cups from a now-empty table on the way. Five minutes later, I go back and ask if they've decided. Apparantly they have.
Twinkly just wants a flat white, while Eyeliner requires a glass of sparkling water and a garden salad. Sideburns wants an espresso and a smal chocolate cake, and Toffee asks for a coke and a chocolate biscotti. They're obviously just here for a snack. I note, too, strong American accents from all of them and they are, by the look of their clothes, pretty well off, too. I take down their orders and return several minutes later with a tray and the drinks, then return to get the food.
Half an hour later, the party asks for the bill, pay for their meal, and leave into the buy, sunshine-flooded street. I stare after them for a moment, then jerk myself out of my trance to go and help a man whose coffee is apparantly too milky.
