There was a rare sighting of feral adolescents at our corner coffee shop this morning.
Rare because the place doesn’t offer much that appeals to a young clientele.
The donuts disappear well before noon and the energy bars the grown-ups use to cheat on their diets are a sorry substitute for Skittles and Reese’s Cups.
It was a helter-skelter morning. The sounds of Ruka and Amoret beans being ground, espressos being steamed and baristas calling out orders were at times deafening.
So at first, no one noticed the middle-schoolers had occupied the coveted table for four in the center of the room.
When things quieted down a bit, sounds of abandon filled the cafe. Our young visitors were ecstatic at simply being together. Every joke, every aside, was judged to be hysterical.
They’d been let out early for a “School Improvement” day and faced a Wednesday afternoon of freedom with no strings attached. In recent years, you’ll remember, they had endured remote learning under house arrest.
So here they sat, escapees making up for lost time over a game of Clue. Colonel Mustard had in fact murdered Mr. Boddy in the conservatory but not with the lead pipe as the four players had first suspected.
Moments like these are fleeting. It’s possible we won’t see these kids again. At least not until they’re home from college, meeting their friends here.
Some of them may be drinking coffee by then.
