|I use the pink one|
I couldn't resist hopping into Indian Coffee House, I was hungry and a dosa-coffee looked appetising. There is really something about this place that brings out my creativity. I must go there sometime with a laptop, when I finally own one, that is. There were a couple of boys seated opposite me, tucking into hot dogs and a strawberry shake. I know I am being horrid, but it seemed so girly somehow, sipping a pink drink through a straw.
There is a motley crowd around me as usual. A group of men in their fifties, suitably bald and overweight, being as rambunctious as they can get over cups of coffee; some shoppers clutching bags, looking tired and sorely in need of sustenance; the heretofore mentioned sippers of strawberry shake; a couple of other youngsters not sipping strawberry shake.
My coffee drunk, dosa eaten, half hour spent in contemplating my surroundings, I leave.