Sunday, May 17, 2009

2 after 10 am

It was like any other day; any other rainy day, just pouring down upon us. Pouring down upon the windows making small patterns alternating between large and small droplets, pouring upon the black asphalt, slicking up that road and beating it like tribal drums in this concrete jungle. The rain poured down and hard, falling freely bound by absolutely nothing, making splatters and spectacular puddles everywhere. And at that instant, the door bell jingled and she walked in, punctual as always, 10:02 a.m. predictable as always. Dries her black, closed toed, pointy stilettos on the welcome mat, four complete shuffles on each foot, then moves on to brush off the excess water on her wrinkle proof black slacks, five light pats, and finally a swipe on each her arms on the grey black pinstriped blazer using only two fingers to run off the water; eccentric as always. She always ordered the same thing, extra large House Blend, light sugar and three pumps of Irish Cream, cash in hand no receipt thank you very much, always. A wipe of the chair, wipe of the table, I think I’ll enjoy my coffee and window seat. Then a man of about twenty-three follows. Punctuality is no stranger to him either, 10:17 a.m. pushes the door open, water dripping off of his slate-grey windbreaker, makes a mess on the checkered linoleum floor. However, punctuality is his second constant. Some days, he walks in, standing and scanning the café, other days; he walks in restroom first coffee second. His drinks are also variable, though dependant on his mood. Happy days will be extra large French Extra Bold Roast with happy amounts of cream, rushed days will be regular decaf, no sugar, no cream, put it o the tab. Gloomy days will be House Special Cappuccino extra cream extra sugar, extra everything make it generous, appreciate it. Only twice have I seen him order the extra large House Blend, no customization. Strange, it has a kick to it, but not enough to make a sad person happy, but it’s boring enough to be unfitting for a happy person to keep his high, and it is inconvenient to be carried in a pinch. He had two tables and a booth that he would regular, a table in the middle drinking his French Extra Bold Roast, a booth with a cozy light back in the corner to sip upon the House Special Cappuccino, and the window seat directly across from miss eccentric sipping on his House Blend.

But you see, today was special.  At 10:17 a.m., he entered like he always did, door pushed open but this time, he took extra long to scan and walked out of the café, too frantic for a hurried business day. He came back in, a slightly dismayed look upon his face, but not sad enough to call for a House Special Cappuccino, extra everything. Instead he ordered an extra large House Blend, a rare sight, and took the seat next to the window, the only seat next to the window. He did not drink his coffee. Then a sudden movement, he had gotten out of his chair, coffee forgotten.

“You’re late today.”

“I know, traffic was really horrible and there was no parking.”

Feet scuffling across the welcome mat.

“No, I was just wondering where the nice attraction in the café might have gone. Rain looks especially bad today.”

“No kidding, I almost forgot my umbrella too. Were you waiting for me?”

Patting the pants and brushing the blazer.

“Yeah I was actually. You want to have coffee sometime?”

That café gets too many customers.

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