Before I begin, I should explain this EFN idea for first time readers. The thought is simple. Could you as a writer walk into an imaginary bookstore, pull a random novel from the shelf, thumb to a page, and write an excerpt from that book. No context before or after, just pull a piece from a book never written. That is what I try to do with these pieces.  

The right leg of my café table, the one closest to me, keeps slipping on the damp cobblestone sending ripples through the nervous glass of water. I try to cross my legs but that means I have to sit too far from the table. I scratch that idea and shift them together off to the side that faces away from the street. My back is to that one way street where these little foreign cars meander looking for parking that will not present itself for weeks, I’m sure. I reach for the rolled eggshell cloth silverware, but hesitate because getting the napkin off my lap and onto the table quietly before I stand up will certainly be something I fret over for the duration of my wait. The silverware stays where it is. The waitress hasn’t shown up again since I asked for sparkling and got tap water instead. I don’t make a big deal of it because she seemed like she had a lot on her mind and never wrote it down. I always write important things down.

I tap my grey loafers against the short leg of the table. It makes a strange melody with the plates and shakes the water again, so I stop provoking the conversation. The leg is made out of some sort of metal, but I’m not a blacksmith so I have no idea what it is. Clearly it was painted over twice because I can see the chipped violet that was painted over with a Statue of Liberty green. I find myself judging the calloused artist who got lazy and stopped chipping away at the violet and slathered on the green. Maybe they were late for something too.

D.K.