A dark and miserable evening

This is another story inspired by my photographing friend’s pictures. For some reason I’ve set it in Denmark:

I thought, good heavens, it’s Sandy! And then in a blink I knew it wasn’t and I’d been deceived by my overactive imagination – again.
I no longer had that crushing sense of disappointment, only its jaded shadow. I was holding my breath and exhaled slowly, with the ridiculous childish image of a pricked balloon deflating. Close on its heels was the childish joke about the balloon family ’… and worst of all, son, you’ve let yourself down.’ I tried to be amused at that and swallowed down that despondent feeling which was a left over from the old despair.
I was standing in the drizzle staring at the cafe window, bright and shining out into the dark and miserable evening. Except it wasn’t miserable, it was an evening too apathetic to feel miserable, rather like me.
I was bumped from behind as an anonymous pedestrian lurched against me and there was a mutter of  insincere apology, before the figure, bundled up in an old fashioned raincoat, scurried away.
Well, I would go in and have a coffee and I pretended I was doing this because I was chilly and tired and wanted a coffee, not because I was double checking the man in the window, the man in the window who wasn’t Sandy, who could never be Sandy.
I managed to trip on the step, my hand on the door so it pushed open and I stumbled in like an idiot, drawing attention to myself.
A young woman on a nearby table half stood, calling out to ask if I was alright.
“Ja tak, jeg har det godt!” I replied.
I couldn’t help but glance past her at the man who wasn’t Sandy. He hadn’t stirred despite my dramatic entrance; he had headphones on and was looking down at something, facing out of the window, not into the cafe.
I ordered coffee at the bar although I really wanted a beer, but after falling into the place I didn’t want to seem as if there was any reason other than missing my step.
I wanted to sit where I could properly look at the man in the window, to confront the ghost, but the only place near him was too near.
The café wasn’t that busy but there were only a couple of free tables – it was obviously a place for singletons and couples.
I sat down and undid my jacket and took out my phone. There was low jazz playing, there was the hum of conversation and I wished I had someone with me to chatter inconsequentially and distract me from my thoughts.
I was seated among other tables, and looking towards a wall with striking pictures, black on white, faces and shapes, almost abstract. Were they by known artists, or were they just mass-produced interior design posters?
I was staring at a comma shaped face when someone bumped against the back of my chair.
“Ups, undskyld det!”
I glanced over the wrong shoulder, towards the window and the person I’d thought was Sandy was gone – but their jacket was still on the chair, the headphones on the table, of course they’d just walked behind me, caught their foot against my chair… I glanced the other way… they must have gone to the restroom, the door was just closing.
I stood up restlessly and went to the bar.
“En øl, tak,” I sounded breathless, but the barman didn’t seem to notice as he began to pour my beer.
I turned to go back to my table and the jacket and headphones had gone, the door swinging shut… and then swung open again and to my surprise Toni entered! She waved at me and pointed at the table in the window – what did she mean? But she only meant she would sit there, and feeling somehow disturbed I walked over to her.
I grabbed my jacket and, greeting her, I hoisted myself on the stool where I thought Sandy had been – but of course, it hadn’t been Sandy.
“Can you smell something?” I asked so abruptly – probably interrupting her. “Can you smell anything?” and I sniffed again.
“Nej, kun kaffee!” she replied, only coffee. ”Hvad er det?” What is it?
I was sure I could smell it, it was so distinctive, I sniffed again, Pino Silvestre.
“It smells like aftershave… I’m imagining things, someone I used to know always wore it…”
I stared out of the window at the dark and miserable evening. It was beginning to rain…