Work Text:
On Saturday mornings Arthur and Ron would walk eighteen blocks east to Café Reggio near Washington Square. The café opened in 1927 and despite a glaring green exterior, inside retained a dark Old-World feel.
Paintings of grand masters were mounted high on the orange rust-colored walls, keeping an eternal watch over generations of patrons. Decorative plates and religious relics filled the spaces between the large paintings. Square wooden tables were accompanied by metal chairs with purple cushions and a curlicue pattern on the backs. In good weather you could sit outside and watch the million little human dramas unfold along MacDougal Avenue.
Invariably, Arthur would get an Americano and poached eggs on whole wheat toast. Ron would order a pot of Earl Grey and a lox and bagel plate.
The industrious grind and hiss of espresso machines and the loud din of lively patrons provided the perfect atmosphere for their respective endeavors.
Arthur was plowing through “American Caesar,” a recently published biography of Douglas MacArthur.
Ron edited his recent chapters of “Blood on the Badge,” making slashes and comments with a black ink pen. Every now and then, he would silently break out in a satisfied grin when he came up with a clever idea or turn of phrase.
Arthur looked up from the ill-fated Korean campaign.
“Ron,” he said quietly.
Ron looked up from his notepad. “Yes?”
“Sitting here with you, drinking coffee and reading, this is my favorite part of the week.”
Ron considered this for a moment, then smiled warmly. “I guess it’s mine too.”
They held each other’s eyes for a moment, then without speaking returned to their reading.