Caught in a Möbius strip

I follow the path around a corner. There’s the café. White chairs circle blue table cloths with white fringes. Okay, I wanted to be spontaneous, so let’s not decide for too long. Random table, as good as any. Sit down. Am I making sense? Is doing random stuff going to help me? Is that what freedom is? Probably not. Several options for reading on the table. Away with the random thing, I guess being free means making free decisions. So I’ll make a decision. Three cheapish fashion magazines. One flyer by a local nature preservation group. Our wildlife — five facts! Fact one: would you believe herring gulls are actually so much in decline they are now red listed in Britain? That’s right, these obnoxious and seemingly indestructible birds are actually so much under human threat that — 

  “Hello, what would you like to order?”

  “Oh! I would like a cappuccino, please.” 

  “Very well. I’ll bring it to you in a minute.” He picks up all objects from the table, quick wipes of a sponge cloth. Looks at the assemblage in his hands. Notices the flyer. “Oh, this doesn’t belong here. Only these are our magazines.” Slap. The three fashion magazines in front of me. Clang. The sugar jar. “Cappuccino’ll be here in a sec.”

  “Thanks.”

I reach for a random magazine. The freshly wiped surface is sticky and a wee bit smelly. 

The coffee is served in a blue cup, with a professional smile. M.C. Escher could have constructed a metamorphosis of circles: white milk foam in the center of the cup’s blue rim, transforming into blue tablecloths with white fringes. I am sitting in a picture, squeezed into a Möbius strip, a phoney mirror image of myself. The fashion photos are magnets. My eyes flicker, weighed down. Mechanically judging the makeup. Sometimes I pry them off, trying to lift them beyond the manor house’s impressive façade. I’m basically back at the agency. Where have I gone wrong…?

THE END