Creature of routine

She writes in the cafe every morning,
arrives with wet hair
and eyes that scream
otherness.

She orders her avocado toast
and almond milk latte
as if it were her first
time there,
everytime.

I try to approach her,
pick her brain,
as she silently
sits and stares at the flowers
that are growing patiently
around her table of one.

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2 thoughts on “Creature of routine

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