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.