I'm Fine Thanks

Five quiet minutes, a coffee and a book. Then someone you almost recognise decides to say hello.

I pull out the book. Coffee on the table.
Five minutes. That's all I came here for.
Cups knock. The steam wand screams.
I find my place, read half a line.

“Haven't seen you in ages. How are you?”
I know that face. I know that face.
Adam? No. Something to do with Adam.
He knows me, anyway. 

I smile. Yeah, good. You?” And that's done it.
Work. Kids. Someone we both knew.
I nod, ask something back, still trying
to place him. School? Work? Adam? 

He tells me something about someone.
“God, yeah.” I take a drink. I nod.
Coffee. Smile—another question.
The book stays open on the same page.

I turn the cup between my hands.
The handle comes round, goes round again.
He puts his elbow on the open book.
I move it when he lifts his arm.

He hasn't done anything wrong.
That's the worst of it. He saw someone
he knew, came over, asked how I was.
I've done the same.

“Anyway, mate. Good seeing you.”
“You too.” Of course. He goes.
Quiet, or as close as Nero gets.
I look down. Same page. Same half-line.

I read it again. Check the time.
Close the book. Pick up my coffee.
Someone takes the table as I leave.
I still don't know him from Adam.