[Sunday morning]
Off to buy some shrimp at the local market, we stopped for coffee at a restaurant where we often go in the evening.
The young man behind the gleaming brass counter looked sleepy, and his black hair was slicked back in oily points in the current young Parisian style (although not in this neighborhood, where the BCBG boys all have long shiny hair). But we gave him our order and he bustled around. In a few minutes he came back and plunked down glasses of kir [white wine with crème de cassis-- I like it better with crème de mûres].
I stared at the kir groggily for a while. I am not très matinale.
"Euhhh," I said finally. "M'sieu! We ordered du café."
At the same time, he said, "Je me suis levé du mauvais pied ce matin," and I said, "I got up on the wrong side of bed this morning." We smiled understandingly at each other.
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