Coffee Shops

There she was. Sat in the corner booth, typing away at her MacBook. The typical Monday morning scene in the quaint, little coffee shop. Her eyes were bright – almost sparkling as the sunlight caught them- with ideas desperately waiting to be poured out onto the screen in front of her. Her small hands were moving at lightning speed across the keyboard. Every week I noticed her.

Every week she was too absorbed in her imagination to notice me. Maybe today would be the day I finally introduced myself. No. I couldn’t do that. She was too beautiful – extraordinary – for the likes of me. Plain, boring me with a stable life and a stable job. I was the type who longed for adventure but was too cowardly to cease the moment. Her though, you could tell by her mannerisms that she took every opportunity to cease the moment. She was unfiltered, obviously didn’t care about how society wanted her to be. She didn’t fit into a box. Her looks included. Her hair was a different shade almost every time I saw her. Ranging a shade lighter to a full 180 on the colour spectrum. Me? I had a hair appointment booked the same time and day each month. I valued routine those who were close to me would say. Though, so must she since I found her here sitting in the same spot with the same drink every week.

She must have been thinking up something particularly delightful since she bit her rosy lip to keep from giggling too much out loud as her fingers moved with more vigour. This was it. I was going to do it. Man I was nervous. Before I could think about it I was approaching. I hadn’t been this nervous since my driving test. But then this was a whole other type of nervous. This was stomach doing flips because fuck, she’s biting her lip again nervous. Finally I reached her table. She still hadn’t noticed me, still smiling wide at the screen.
“Refill?” I asked handing her, her usual order.



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