Just one person in a café
Tap, tap, tap. I’m typing away in a café in North London. Outside, the sky is grey. Around me, people are ordering drinks, looking at their phones and talking through problems with colleagues. There must be about twenty of us in here, each with something on our minds.
I have my own concerns. There’s a pile of admin waiting for me, and I’m not especially keen to get on with it.
I stop typing and look around. Each person has a life as complicated as mine. Someone might be worrying about money. Someone else might be looking forward to seeing a friend. A person across the room could have received wonderful news this morning, while somebody else might be quietly dealing with something awful. We sit alongside one another, sharing the same small space, with no real idea what’s happening in each other’s lives.
