2:7

Rowan gazed out the smudged window glass at the people sitting on the small cafe chairs and tables crammed on the sidewalk. Two young women sat sipping cappuccino and chatting. They were obviously of Chinese descent and had a look about them that seemed to tell a story of strong family tradition and a prescriptive lifestyle. It was nothing you could really put your finger on except their sense of style: designer glasses, t-shirts, hair pulled back with the odd Asian-inspired accessory. All of this seemed to tell a story of a family both integrated within North American culture and yet strongly tied to an older, stricter culture.

Two tables down sat a young man with two small children. He was sipping a large cup of coffee while they slurped away at a couple of Oranginas. He seemed to be enjoying his day out, amused by the girls’ antics and bemused by the clouds overhead. Obviously trying to balance kids and me-time, Rowan smiled to herself.

She turned her attention back to her own empty cup and scraped the last of the foam out with her spoon. Should I have another? she wondered as she slowly turned her head toward Gareth and his father.