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Last week I sat here and cried

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How a week changes your life thoughts. I sat in this very cafe and cried to my self. I rested my forehead in my hands in an attempt not to be seen but really wanted someone, yes a stranger, to tap me on my shoulder and ask.

I am sitting here on a baking day, (waiting for the predicted heatwave) amongst people who appear to have no problems. There are eight of them, seven women and one chap. Could be work friends and are chatting about everything under the sun: Gentlemen Jack, it’s forth coming replacement – demanding no one gives out any spoilers.

I look and I see happy exteriors.

A women, who I suspect is a cross dresser, is ordering her meal. Her covered head could reveal more, but it matters not to me.

I look and I see happy exteriors.

The staff here are a collection of mature people all of whom have a strong purpose of service. They are busy busy people who serve their customers with dignity and pride. I don’t see this type of service in any of the chain coffee places.

I look and I see happy exteriors.

I hope they are, as I now know my shell is soft and bruises easily and I am always on guard for a glancing blow to my feelings.

I look and I see happy exteriors.


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