Soft pop music and soft conversation. Racing green woodstove with a gas fire. Chimney pipe through the wall, not the ceiling. Wood floors Then a blues song and people at both tables tapping their feet. Man in 60s in jean jacket and jean pants, Timberland t-shirt, white hair, glasses, beard. Sitting alone at round table, staring around him and over at us. Eating red rice off a white paper plate and drinking a can of Pepsi.

Behind me, round table of four people.

“Five of hearts order. Five of hearts.” over the loudspeaker.

Boy, girl, two women. They’re talking about someone running. Music obscures all but occasional word. Party of three comes in: ma wearing blue button-down shirt, teenaged boy and teen girl. “I love you baby,” rasps the mother to the new blues song on the radio.

“This is my first time out in a long time,” she explains.

“Was that you?” I ask. (I’d thought it was the teen boy.)

“Mm hmm. I’m looking for a new career. You think it should be singing?” she replies.

“No doubt in my mind,” I tell her.

“Don’t tell her that,” says her daughter.

“Six of hearts order, six of hearts,” over the loudspeaker.

Cathedral ceilings, exposed beams crossing red-stained pine. Small cottage. Painting of cow with rooster on its back. Other wall art.

“Bring a little water, Silvie…” new song on the radio, sung by a white guy.

“Can’t you hear me calling…” sings the woman.

Mumbling at the table of three. “She was standing and now she’s sitting,” said the mom to her kids about someone outside the window. The three of them get up to leave.

“Bye,” I say as she and her kids pass by.

“Have a good day,” she says.