Middle-aged man in the tiny coffee shop aisle, black V-neck sweater, business casual pants. He orders a latte, and flirts with the barista.
As they chat, he mimes a dramatic full-body golf swing. At first, I think the motion is a sarcastic gesture, something in reference to their conversation. But he lingers, and in moments where she busies herself with coffee and other customers, he waits to see if she’ll return her attention to him.
When she does not, he tees up for another private round of counter-side golf. Two swings, three, a pause to glance around casually, then four. I step around him to get at the milk.