Full English in mind, I walk through the door and past so many empty tables. Greek owners, I think.
“How many?” he asks. Greek, right enough.
“Just the one.”
“A seat here, please,” he says, showing me to a table behind a pillar and far from any plate glass.
I respond by turning and leaving, pointedly eyeing undeniably available window seats before passing back through the door and out into late morning sunshine.
In the park across the street a little girl wearing pigtails and a gap-tooth smile swings her pencil legs above precious few worldly cares. She is with her mother, her father hopefully at work.
I know the girl will forget this day, perhaps until a vague childhood recollection much later when a thousand such times and many thousand such suns have passed.
Stay loved, little girl, I think to myself, and never lose your trust in a future as yet unknowable - not yet, anyway.
Looking at my watch I remember I will soon be in the family court. I will be in front of a judge, pleading the case for stopping my ex-wife from taking my own young son far away and into another jurisdiction.
Mark 10:9 - KJV
