Kennedy’s Cafe

I was passing the cafe at dusk on a cold day. The woman sitting in the cafe looked so cosy, she was laughing at something, perhaps something she shouldn’t have found funny since her hands covered her mouth. The person across leaned in, conspiratorially.

Outside, another woman was locking up her bicycle, awkwardly positioned with one foot in the road and the other turned in so that her bum stuck out. We’ve all been there.

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