René

René sits alone outside a café. His coffee has become lukewarm. He absentmindedly fiddles with a spoon in his hand, as he looks down Market Street.

One car drives past him and makes a left turn onto Lafontaine and disappears behind an old brick building.

René takes a sip of his coffee, and returns to the spoon. His reflection appears distorted and upside-down in its reflective face.

The ground trembles, and coffee cup rattles on its saucer.

“It’s begun,” René says. He drains the cup of its remaining contents.

His last thoughts drift to regret that only he decided to stay.