Junk Drawer

The salt and pepper shakers at this table are a pair of gray ceramic bunnies. One of salt’s ears has broken off and only a nub exposing its raw cement interior remains. They perch next to a glass jar of brown sugar.

The woman at the table across from me has tried to start reading her book several times. She manages the first couple pages, then picks up her phone and scrolls. After a few minutes, she tries the book again. Back to phone. She seems to be preoccupied by something, anxious, her hand shakes slightly as she turns the page. She gives up and leaves the cafe.

A heavily pregnant woman sits down at the same spot by the window. She takes a large embroidery frame out of her bag and starts solemnly sewing magenta thread into the white fabric. A pregnant friend spots her from across the road and she sticks her tongue out through the window.

A fly buzzes against the glass.

It’s a gray day, windy and muggy. I wonder why some details stick out more than others.

“And if a double decker bus crashes into us,” sing The Smiths, “to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die”

A third pregnant woman across the street deposits some old electrical equipment in an electronics recycling bank.

I see so many bellies with babies in them. I wonder what their owners’ pregnancies have been like, how far along they are, what birth stories await. These babies will all be younger than Luna.

I read, I sip, I reply to some messages. This time is unremarkable and I bask in it.