Daniel watched people. It was a habit. You see, Daniel was a writer and he liked to observe human behaviour. He said it helped him reach a level of realism he had never managed to get to before, in the old days when he drank all the time for inspiration. He was unable to drink these days thanks to the doctor making booze blasphemous, but it didn't stop him watching others getting stewed.
On this particular day, Daniel wasn't in a bar however; he was drinking coffee in a department store restaurant. It wasn't one of his usual practices, but today was particularly cold. One wouldn't think so to look outside however because the sun was shining high in the sky, and this is another reason he decided to take his coffee in this particular store; it had a huge window with a great view of the sea.
The place was full of the usual sort of people who congregate in department store restaurants at around eleven in the morning. The all-day breakfast eaters and the three generation group of females shoppers: granny, mother, and daughter. Daniel had his eye on one particular couple who had taken their seats directly in front of his sea view. He hadn't even come here to observe people, it was their fault they were now being observed, he thought to himself, because they sat right in front of him. They appeared to be a couple, a man and a woman that is.
The woman was much younger than the man, by at least ten years, he thought; or at least is appeared to be so. She was tall, and she was still wearing a long black coat and a grey scarf with the label clearly visible at the front like a white medal. She had the full English breakfast. Her husband, or partner was a shorter than she, but clearly not as cold. He still had on his sweater, a terrible multi shaded brown thing, but he had chosen to drape his coat over the back of the chair. Husband only had a roll for his snack. A roll with one of those dreadful 'single' portions of jam; he was probably watching his cholesterol, thought Daniel to himself as he looked on. Daniel was doing the same thing himself and it wasn't easy at all; he felt for the man.
Neither of the two spoke to each other for the entire time Daniel was watching them. Now, let's get this in context. That might not seem so strange to the reader, but what must be considered is the amount of time Daniel usually watched people. Well, once he gets interested (usually in the first 30 seconds) he will not stop watching them until they leave, or he may even follow them; that's how bad it gets.
They continued to eat and say nothing. Daniel found this hard to believe because they didn't even comment on the view from their window; the sea looked beautiful. The sun was reflecting from its surface and it made it appear almost solidified, like set yoghurt or a moose. Perhaps it was this spectacle that silenced them both into awkward reverence. Some people just didn't appreciate stuff like that, he thought to himself. Then he began to guess what might have happened to make them the way they were on that particular morning. Someone could have died perhaps, or maybe they had agreed to divorce following an affair the younger woman was having with their gardener; no wait, he thought, that's a little too D. H. Lawrence. This man was no Clifford, and she was certainly no Lady Chatterley. It was much more likely that life itself had just beaten these two poor wretches into a submissive silence with each other. They perhaps had nothing left to say.
Daniel continued to watch them and drink coffee. He had nowhere to go. Twenty five minutes passed and still nothing was said. Then without warning the woman leaned across and whispered something in the man's ear. He didn't flinch, just nodded, and then they both started to collect their belongings and make a move for the entrance. Daniel was far too intrigued to let this go. They sat there saying nothing, and then she whispers to him and they leave; strange. Either he was some sort of submissive robot, or they were both secret agents. Daniel had an overwhelming desire to know which it was, so he finished his coffee, gathered his journal and pen and put on his jacket. When they left the restaurant he very nearly lost them before he began, but as luck would have it they both turned to go to the toilets.
Daniel didn't usually make a habit of waiting outside toilets but on this occasion he was very curious because they both went in to the same one: the gents. He gave it about thirty seconds and then followed them in, after all, he thought, he was man and perfectly entitled to go in. The inside of this toilet was very upmarket, much better than the ordinary public, precinct ones with half an inch of piss on the floor and holes drilled into the cubicles to stick your dick through; something he had often considered doing, just for the thrill of it. This place even smelled clean, and someone could eat their lunch off those floors.
Daniel looked around and couldn't see the couple anywhere. Curious, he thought, perhaps they went in the ladies and he hadn't noticed. He didn't want to get himself too excited here, but to begin with, he automatically thought they would be in one of the cubicles screwing each other's brains out, but then he rationalised whilst he pretended to wash his hands and look at his hair in the vast array of mirrors that would rival backstage at the London Palladium. They had more than likely gone into the ladies, and it was probably because one of them had something in their eye or something equally as dull. Being a writer really did make his imagination run riot sometimes.
He turned to leave the place, but then decided to take a leak before he went. He turned and entered a cubicle. He couldn't believe his eyes. This place was as clean as the outside. Perfectly, new-looking, beige floor tiles and gleaming white toilet, above which was a packet of seat covers of all things; this was the first time Daniel had ever seen a public toilet with seat covers. He pulled one of in curiosity and heard a faint 'Shhhhh," from the cubicle next door. It wasn't loud enough to be meant for him, he thought, no-one would need to concentrate on doing their number two that much. He flushed the seat cover down the toilet and opened the door. He closed it again, but stayed inside the cubicle and stood up onto the seat of the toilet under cover of the flushing sound; whoever it was next door would think he had gone. Daniel felt awfully sneaky, like some form of secret agent; memories of the latest James Bond movie filled his head.
