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I was lucky to be working on the last Easter Weekend.
Or rather,journeying to my duty station.
The bus stopped
at a little cafe
by the roadside in a heavy downpour
and the passengers
entered.
I sat at the counter
with the others,
ordered and the
food served.
The meal was
particularly
good
and the
coffee…I love hot black coffee.
The waitress was
unlike the women
I had
known.
She was unaffected by sight of too many whites(I was the only black in the bus) in a local cafe,
there was a natural
humor which came
from her.
I wanted to stay
in that cafe
forever.
There was a curious warm feeling
swimming through my mind
that everything
was
beautiful
there,
that it would always
stay beautiful
there.
then the bus driver
told the passengers
that it was time
to board.
Man,i
thought, I’ll just sit
here, I’ll just stay
here.
but then
I rose and followed
the others into the
bus.
I found my seat
and looked at the cafe
through the bus
window.
Then the bus moved
off, down a curve,
downward, out of
the hills.

I looked straight
forward.
I heard the other
passengers
speaking
of other things,
or they were
reading
or
attempting to
sleep.
They had not
noticed
the
magic inside that roadside cafe.
I put my head to
one side,
closed my
eyes,
pretended to
sleep.
There was nothing
else to do-
just to listen to the
sound of the
engine,
the sound of the
tires
in the splash of the rain drenched road surface.

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