With her hair dyed and curled, she walked into the coffee shop, thinking it was a perfume shop, and there attempted to spritz herself using coconut water. She was stopped before causing too much trouble. Which is a good thing, because a few moments later a man arrived, in his early seventies, retired, bored out of his skull who, out of the blue, felt like knocking on the display case of desserts–as if he could wake them from their slumber. He was corrected, lightly admonished and stuck around long enough to order a latte. In another corner of the shop, a woman could be heard telling her twin sister, with heavily weighed words: “That was in the third grade, when you used to wear those sandals.” The other twin protested, insisting they’d always worn the exact same outfits in the third grade, including those sandals. They began to argue loudly.

Two baristas ducked behind the counter, afraid of what might ensue. The manager of the coffeehouse ordered them to stand and work. They did, grudgingly.

The arguing between the twin sisters slowed.  Something else simmered, in another corner. But by then, it was the morning rush hour and the place grew loud as a whole, so there was not one thing that one person in particular could focus or fret on.