(…) But there is no future, I thought; what we can embrace with our intellect are uncertain possibilities, options, but not something as concrete as the past. As Sarah Connor used to say in my favorite film Terminator 2, “No fate, but what we make.” Suddenly I remembered how I used to cry when T-800 immersed into liquid metal, and smiled. Damn, I still drop a tear when I replay this moment; and the phrase “I know now, why you cry. But it is something I can never do,” still launches goosebumps all over my body.
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Delved in this thinking, I realized I was starving. I’m like this—give me something to think about, and I can forget about everything else. Spiritual food and stuff like that. On the other hand, this spiritual food sometimes tends to run out, and then it turns into some kind of a detrimental chewing gum. 
I entered the first cafe that caught my eye, and sat by a table by a window. Curious—why are windows of small restaurants, trains, and buses, so attractive? In some way, they must show our everyday life from a slightly different perspective. My imagination instantly drew an extremely long room of a cafe in some unknown city. Rows of tables ran from one infinity to another in both ways; they were located by windows. Each table was occupied by a single man or woman drinking coffee. They were listening to music, smoking, or reading books from their tablets or phones. And it was silent inside, though there was a huge rainy megalopolis outside, with its red lights of cars passing by, umbrellas, and sad old skyscrapers.
I thought this picture could be used to portray modern humanity. People voluntarily locking themselves in their loneliness, painting the facades of their prisons with bright colors.
Okay, stop thinking about nonsense, I said to myself, noticing I was becoming too detached from reality once again this day. Here is a cute waitress approaching you—just make your order and enjoy the food.
I smiled to myself. The cute girl smiled at me. Everybody pleased and shiny. She passed me the menu, and I started researching it. In a couple of minutes the waitress came back, and I was still thinking what I’d like to eat.
“What would you like to order?” she asked me cheerfully.
“Uh…” I tried to decide quickly. “I’d like scrambled eggs with bacon.”
“Scrambled eggs with bacon…” she repeated my words in an expectant tone, and tilted her head to one side.
“And a coffee,” I added.
“And a coffee.” The waitress repeated my words once again, and ran away.
I watched her for a moment, and wondered if her affability was natural, or companies now train their employees on some kind of secret training grounds? “Imagine that each time you talk to a client, a bright sun blossoms in your chest. Then smile.” Haw.
I decided to check my email. The battery in my phone was going out of battery, but it was enough for 10-15 minutes of Internet. I quickly viewed messages about new job vacancies, and decided to read them at home. And I found a letter from my friend, who went to India about a year ago and hadn’t returned yet. Sometimes we exchanged letters, but it had been a long time since I received a note from him. Intrigued, I opened the email hurriedly and started reading.
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