pixelated.me

They all sat around the table exchanging transient glances.
just to check that they were all still there. conversation seemed beyond their collective. no one seemed much concerned with it. they all flipped through the pages of 4 year old National Geographic magazines politely provided by the impolite staff at the hip looking cafe. If someone were to walk by...in fact for arguments sake, lets say two separate somebody's were to walk by separated only by a 12 second interval. They would’ve each have walked away with vastly different stories. Where as one would have spied three friends comfortable enough to wear the role of quiet strangers, the second somebody would, if he was the sort to notice details, if he was, say, the sort to notice when his gf had trimmed her hair by only the slightest of trims, if he was that sort of somebody, then he might see, nestled, burrowed neatly in the folds of carefully worn rejection, the unmistakable whimper of unrequited love, on the face of one of the three “friends” sitting at the table in this hip looking café.