He looks down toward where they're drumming their fingers against the glass tabletop. Eigengrau nailpolish clicks to a skipping copy of Time Further Out.

"It's going to get cold soon."

He looks to the left, out the empty windowframe. It's not the same bicycle he was riding this afternoon. The handlebars seem bent in just the wrong way.

"What?"

"The coffee. It's going to get cold soon."