A man alone

Geoff sits alone, away from everyone else, but he’s not lonely. His arm drapes over the chair beside him, his designer trainers stretch into the space of the next table. He talks to a distant someone on the phone in between puffs on his cigarette and sips from his coffee. He tells her, like he always tells her, that he’s different, he’s not like all those other guys. She should believe him, he says. He finishes his coffee, and the dregs mix with the fumes from the last drags on his cigarette. His stomach groans, his guts grumble. He cuts the call, picks up his jacket and newspaper and heads off to be alone for a while.