The city’s skyscrapers bought some gloomy clouds from the dark grey sky for some moody delight of its inhabitants. The deal worked for that upscale café by the lake in the midtown, as the hip romantics swarmed into it, for their privileged exchanges.
The cashier at the café saw two customers enter at the same time.
One of them; was a regular there, a city girl prepped up with a trendy outfit.
The other one; a young man, wearing formals and with a lost expression, appeared out of place.
When the cashier informed them that there is a thirty-minute wait for the next available seat, she decided to walk out, carrying with her, a bit of disappointment.
He stood there, scanning the large menu behind the bill counter. His eyes met the annoyed cashier after five minutes, which made him hurry through his order and wait for that last seat.
She must have walked for a minute tracing the edge of the lake, searching for a temporary fix of caffeine when she noticed an old man with a rusty bicycle, selling chai in those tiny glasses. A picture, which was a favorite subject of one of her photographer friends.
Thirty minutes later, when his order arrived at the café, his hands felt a quiver of excitement, when they cupped that expensive cuppa pride, bought with his first salary.
Thirty minutes later, her hands quivered mildly, as she searched for a ten Rupee change in her purse full of credit cards; a quiver, caused by the excitement of her newfound bliss of a sip of chai, by the lakeside chair on a monsoon evening.