A haggard face in the window. A pressed white apron.
As the couple continue past, she registers hope...
...dissipate, personifying the lonely flicker of the candle in the empty, half-lit cafe.
So as not to spoil her mood on a Friday night, she suppresses empathy with a pragmatic nod to capitalism's sadder side. "The entrepreneur is not always rewarded."
A week later. Innocent witness to a dream crashing on the cold rocks of the real world, the pitiful impression refuses to fade.