The whole room stood before her, as iuf waiting. Watching. Ten round table clusterd at the center of the room. Their stained and chipped wood had certainly seen better days, and now looked forlorn without the guests to give them significance.
Six booths lineds the walls, wrapping around a corner, hidden in darkness under shuttered windows. The bar to the left of the entryway was the only surface that glistened. It drew the eye there. Where meals and pitchers would be set and the girls would come and sweep them off the counter to dreliver to waiting patrons.
The flow of food and alchohol would distract from the otherwise lackluster color and quality of floor, walls, tables.
Without the bustle, the room just stood there, barren, lost. Exposed for its true nature: plain, dull, and worn out by too many parties and too many guests and too much attention. Ragged and older than it should be.
Teffi sank into one of the chairs and traced a deep gash in a round table.
The clacxking stopped. She caught her breath, finding the silence disarming.
"You're here early," said the cook, a dish towel hanging from a chubby hand.
--How'd I do?