Absence

Though I'm stable in my
job, I'm unsure.

I'm alone, as they say,
looking tensely down at the
coaster atop my own personal,
and senseless table.

Normally this cafe is richly
niched with the aroma of
various coffees and teas,
but my lungs are unsteady
when my hands clasp the
soaking table.

My coffee had spilled over
an hour ago, no one noticed,
but the hair on the back of my
neck still stood on end.

"The reason for the massacre
and the whereabouts of the
assailant is still unknown."

I'm still inside, in my seat, covered
in cold coffee. Hands still gripping
the table and arms still aching from
the strain.

Not anyone noticed, not even me.

"....and the whereabouts of the
assailant is still unkown."

"....unkown."

"....unkown."