Yellow Cabana
It’s a Sunday morning, the clouds are out in all their glory; my kind of Sunday morning good weather. Rosy is at her table. The one she sits at every morning, rain or shine. The one with the yellow cabana and the small pots of hydrangeas and lilies and things… She’s out there, today, Sunday, in her morning casuals, her hair done and lipstick on, a long slim white cigarette dangling off the sides of her index and middle finger. She has to be somewhere in her sixties. Cool sixt
