Coffee. It was the coffee that was always the same, perhaps with the exception of those subtle aromatic imaginings, induced into all those who partook of it. It was the cohesive thing that they always could count on. The line drawn from one part of their lives to the next, could be connected with coffee.
Her hair had spots of white by now, but the island sun may have been part of the blame for that. Like the coffee, she was mostly unchanged by the swirl of events they had witnessed together, and which remained the consumer of most of their thoughts. Today’s event stood high, and was of much importance to the sun bleached pair. Barry and Cindi slid their empty mugs together on the counter-top, pushed off of their stools, and slipped out onto the gravel side street next to the Island Cafe.
It was a short walk to the wharf. Every destination on the island was a short trip, given the size of the little anomalous dot of terra firma they had called home since Costa Rica.
Quantum Extinction 