“I don’t think it’s going to be a good day,” Alfonse said.
“Why do you say that, Alfie?” Morgan asked.
“Just looks like it won’t. Sun’s a bit low. Clouds. People feel like they’re all in a tizzy. Not gonna be a good day.”
“You always say that, Alfie,” Devon said. “Six years we been coming here, drinkin’ coffee and watchin’ the world, there ain’t been a day you ain’t said, ‘I don’t think it’s going to be a good day.’ Know what I think? I think you’re a naysayer, Alfie.”
Alfie looked at his friend in mock offense.
“Yeah, I said it. You ain’t got nothin’ good to say, so you say nothin’ good.”
“Well, at least I’m no bully, Dev. And what do you think, you think it’s gonna be a bad day?”
Devon sipped his coffee and stretched an arm up onto the bench beside him, looking down the street. “What do I think? I think it’s a day like any other. I think today the sun is shining. Tomorrow it might do so again, or it might rain and we’ll have to meet inside, where all those kids are yelling, and important folks are waiting impatiently to get their coffee, trying to nose their way up in line. And I think we’ll sit and watch it all, and you’ll say, ‘I don’t think it’s going to be a good day,’ and Morgan’ll ask you why, and I’ll say you’re just being a naysayer, and we’ll do it all again the next day.”
“You sayin’ we’re on repeat, Dev?” Morgan asked. “Some kind of temporal loop or some such?”
“Naw, Morg,” Devon said. “I think we just got our groove, and it works for us. And I kinda like it, is all. It may not be a good day for most folks, but any day I’m awake and sippin’ coffee and jawin’ with you boys is a good day in my books.”
“Awful nice thing to say, Dev,” Alfonse said.
“Agreed,” Morgan said.
The three sipped their coffees for a moment, watching the people pass.
“You see the game last night?” Morgan said.