CafeLitMagazine

Sarah Bakewell Latte I was about five years old. I’d shuffled across the waiting room to a plastic blue chair in the corne...

Dorothy Davies Ruby Grapefruit Juice You see me not.             How could you see me? I am no more than the morning mist wh...

Dorothy Davies Steaming hot water There is nothing as heartbreaking as a train whistle at midnight across a desolate lonely ...