I was able to get my preferred seat during my morning break at work - in a small back booth behind the fireplace, out of view of the staff and most of the customers. Eating my sandwich and salad, I watched pedestrians walk past the main door. The little foyer is comprised of windows and glass doors that form an irregularly-shaped polygon, and the glass panels reflect off of one another. When someone walks past, you can see them through the glass in a normal way. However, once they disappear behind the wall, their image is reflected a second time off the door, though backwards as if they were walking the opposite way. Their actual bodies take them where they should go - work, school, the doctor's office - but their reflections for just a moment act as ghosts of the mind returning to where they would rather be.
We go where we are supposed to go and do what we are supposed to do and pretend it's exactly what we want. But there is always something inside pulling us elsewhere - the bus stop, a warm bed, another state. I felt myself being pulled out of the booth, but to where I was unsure. If I knew, I probably would have figured out a way to get there by now.