Condensation by Owen Townend

As condensation faded from the café window, I saw all the women inside.
            There was Marybeth with her clarinet, giving out a comical toot and setting off the rest of the table. Candice had the kind of laugh that visibly shook her to the point where she had to lay hands around her stomach to keep it steady. Henrietta and Stella tittered in much the same way as if they were twins separated at birth as everyone insisted. Juniper surprised me though with her weary eyes expressing no genuine joy in the moment.
            And it was a lovely little moment. I was quite jealous if I’m honest, though soon Candice would doubtless say something she ought not to about a subject she didn’t really know much about. Some callous passing comment. If anyone brought her up on it, she would just hunch her shoulders and sulk.
            I didn’t know why they all chose to meet together. I know Henrietta couldn’t stand Candice, presumably Stella too by proxy, and Juniper was such a busy woman with her five kids and the drawn-out process of the divorce. Many times I have seen Marybeth in Candice’s presence, somehow enjoying the bitter discussions that would often ensue. And why had she brought along her clarinet? While Marybeth was a natural born entertainer, she was rarely so organised.
            I stood there at the window for a long time, waiting to see if they might notice me standing there. Removing my glove, I laid a bare hand on the glass. That this was a happenstance meeting seemed highly unlikely to me so where was my invitation? I had a feeling Candice didn’t care for my company anymore after that afternoon we chatted about the lewd pottery she had been working on, but I had no idea she would snub me like this. Still, the more I thought about it, the more this turn of events made sense.
            For a moment I thought I glimpsed her looking out at me with a sideways glance. She knew I was there and didn’t she look victorious. Then again, I knew that soon even this nasty feeling of hers would pass. After all, poor little Candice always felt sorry for herself. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as if to dismiss me in favour of the rousing discussion that had now started up. Henrietta and Stella were leaning in to Marybeth as she began to deliver a dramatic anecdote about her musical life. Even Juniper seemed to perk up at her words. Candice’s full-toothed grin just widened.
            Like a closing camera aperture, the condensation soon returned along with the ear-splitting wail of a nearby steamer. It was the only thing that I could truly hear coming from within. Stuffing my chilly fingers back into their pockets, I turned and continued on my lonely way to the bank...