I sit here to watch people. I love the laughs, those who are silently arguing and others who come alone, like me, to just watch. So much drama unfolds between the sips of coffee. Someone cheated, someone died, another is being taken advantage of at work, while others are searching for work. All these stories I hear before I sip my iced green tea with no sugar. Bland and plain, I wish that is what I could say about me.
Instead, I'm complicated. I'm difficult. Life and traumas have made me this way. It's not bad actually, not being afraid to call people out on their bs not caring about what position they might hold in life. My bluntness can be a little much. It's always too much for those who say they are all for it until it gets turned on them. Now, all of a sudden, it's an issue...I wonder why? Anyways, my scattered thoughts are painting pictures in my mind. Are they doing the same for you?
There's an elder man, wearing a purple, orange and teal plaid shirt. He's short, glasses, and his smile lit up this entire coffee shop. He passes by an elder woman who is wearing a cute cotton floor length dress. She comes a lot, she loves to smile. I can't help but think that she has no one. Like me, we sit alone in these shops for the company.
They smile at one another. She's watching him, I think she's interested. He looked over his shoulder, she turned red and turned around. He ordered his drink, the barista is loudly asking him if that is all..... he pauses, and orders something else. A few moments pass, his order is ready, he's about to leave and she's fixing her hair. This is so adorable.
He grabs a napkin and passes her table, he looks back at her, she smiles, he hands her a drink. She blushes and takes it. They take a sip, he looks deep into her eyes. I can see her melting. I can feel her heart fluttering because mine is too. She says thank you softly, he nods his head and leaves. She walks towards the door with a slight limp. She watches him, he's still looking back. He drives away.
She exhales as she presses the coffee cup against her lips. It's like she's smelling the cup trying tog et his essence back in her presences. Like she wishes she were the cup and his hands were holding onto her instead of the paper. She walks back to her seat and grabs her necklace. I watch her as she stares off into space, then that smile comes back and she blushes again. She grabs her bags and leaves.
A simple romance in the coffee shop played out before me. Makes me crave for it. Makes me want to know what it's like to have someone look at me like that. I want that feeling but have yet to have it, I'm almost 30 and I have no idea what it's like to have someone completely take your breath away. Maybe she waits here for him daily? Maybe that's their dance, maybe that's how they say hello.
Now I feel a hint of jealousy all from a cute little speechless romance between two elderly people. Silly? I'm not sure if it is, we're all entitled to our own feelings. Coffee shops are gold. This place brings me so many feelings wrapped in so many colorful skin types. We all want one thing, to create. Whether that is a life or a work of art, we want to be expressive we want to be free.
More coffee shop diaries to come.