Young ran a finger along the rough bandage under his right eye, the high swelling beneath giving him a distinctively pained squint. He had not heard the bee, nor felt it on his cheek, nor seen it fly away; all the same, it stung, mottling the colours.
Had the shock caused him to crush the glass in his hand, or would it have happened regardless? What had provoked such an anger in him, so perfectly timed to coincide? He could not longer remember, but the deep cut into the palm of his hand, and the swelling of his face, remained.
"Lost the thread, John Barry?" the gentle matron whispered, knowing, as she set his bitter black down in front of him. Young did not answer, as she knew he would not.
Most of the tables in the QK Cafe were emptied, save for the large corner spot that was perpetually occupied by one or all of the Three Idiots and a rotating cast of their vagabond acquaintances. Today, the triumvirate had attracted a gang of poets, the grouping split evenly between Asiatics and Europeans, all bellowing and blustering on about the changing conditions of their world.
They all seemed so juvenile to him, but Young could not have been older than any single one of them.
He drew a small red book from his suit pocket, opening it to the last marked page. Directly, he picked up his silver-tipped ink pen, and, without considering, began to write out the verses.
Brantley looks down into the cup, focusing on his dark reflection.
"Wisdom?"
"I don't think that I ever met her. Is she from around here?"
"I don't know. I used to know," John stuttered out, trying to give voice to his process just to completely give up the thought. "Everything is hard to explain here."
The matronly woman, having no face to shape, poured more coffee into John's cup. Any concern for his state, as fragmented as he always seemed, was quickly shifted away at the sound of a breaking piece of clay, almost hidden under the boisterous noises from the menagerie to the other side of the cafe.
"You're going to pay for that, Ben Cohen?"
"This cheap saucer? You oughta pay me for getting it off your hands!"
Snickering laughter.