In the café, a motley assortment of furniture: mismatched wooden kitchen chairs, a leather arm chair worn through in places to the horsehair, old school desks, ancient sofas.
On the wall faded maps show countries and boundaries that disappeared decades ago.
That table reminds her of the one they’d had at home when she was a kid, square with flaps on opposite sides that you pulled out for birthdays and Christmas.
She chooses the green velvet loveseat. The springs have gone and she sinks further down than she expected.
The coffeemaker launches into action, grinding and thumping and hissing. Used to be Continue reading