Shut up! Full moon!

by Natalie Robin

A round sort of woman just came into the cafe I’m at, dancing around on her buoyant feet and joyously singing “cállate! cállate! cállate!” to her own internal beat, before an eruption of laughter propelled her forward into an embrace with the woman working at the counter and she muffled somethingsomethingsomething else into the center of their greeting, and then, reared back again as the words “FOOOLL MOOOON!” drained themselves into another pension of satisfied, lovely, loving laughter, in conclusion and reasoning of her grand entrance.

And all I could think, in the swirl of entertained faces lighting up around the room, was: this is why I stopped going to cafe’s where everyone composedly and self-consciously sits around giving a shit.

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