At The Café

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Every Wednesday afternoon you can find me here. Sitting against the back wall, watching the world drift in and out, picking out the locals from the tourists, listening to the banter between the waiters as they rush around taking orders and flirting with the attractive women and men, making up stories about the people sitting together.It's warm outside. Why is that poor kid wrapped up in a jacket and scarf?Everyone at that table has got to be Italian. . . .

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