Night Air

I pushed my head past the folded canvas hem of the tote. The bag had settled against the back of a small round table, surrounded by the quiet hum of the night. A warm breeze drifted past, carrying the faint scent of roasted coffee and autumn leaves. Nearby rested a small white ceramic saucer and a clean, slender coffee spoon. I climbed halfway out, resting both palms on the thick rim of the canvas. Across the dark tabletop, the polished metal spoon caught the amber glow of the hanging overhead bulbs, shining like a tiny golden path. I stayed still, listening to the soft murmur of the street.