Yes, I wrote this while sitting at a window table in a bagel place on my lunch break. It was a quick spur of the moment thing. I had a funny thought and I wanted to expand it into a little micro fiction piece.
I accept the responsibility of taking the table next to the window of restaurants. No one realizes the pressure of sitting at the table where everyone walking past can see you. When you watch TV, or you see people sitting at the window seat or at the counter, if the restaurant has a counter, people eat so casually and make the food look good. The restaurant counts on people like me to show the public it’s worth coming in. Do the employees look at me or think of me graciously? It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I don’t mess up, that I don’t look like a barbarian while I eat, while passerby can judge what kind of people go to that restaurant. Not anyone can just walk in and take the seat I’m in now. You have to earn it, it has to not just feel natural, but look natural. People will always judge a book by its cover. But behind that cover is an artist, and I’ve taken sitting at the table near the window as my medium. I, and a select few, own it.