Status: abandoned :( they were eventually supposed to get back together though, s o..
It Started in a Coffee Shop
2.
I found myself thinking about him often; wondering his name, what he was like, or if I would see him again. After about three days I was sure I wasn’t going to see him again. I was sure he was some out of towner, visiting family, just stopping in on his way to somewhere better, and that he didn’t even see what I had written on his cup, or care, and that he was never coming back. I was so sure by just the third day after.
It wasn’t until sometime the next week he had come in again. It was like an exact repeat. He came in, taking off his sunglasses, running a hand through his messy air, and I had involuntarily sucked in the air and held my breath, just like the first time I saw him. But this time Melanie wasn’t working. It was an older woman, Helen, who’d worked here for years and knew some of the costumers.
“Evan! How’s it going, what can I get you?”
“Hey, Helen. I’m just gonna get some plain iced coffee,” He responded, smiling a little.
His name was Evan. He came here often. He was hot and his voice was dreamy (is that weird?) and I was sure I was in love. Or in lust. Does it even matter which? All I knew was I was terribly smitten with this man.
Helen glanced at me. “Plain iced coffee, kiddo, let’s go.”
I didn’t mind when Helen barked orders are me., so I didn’t shoot her any deathly glares as I got his drink. I didn’t have anything to write on his cup this time, and I was still sure he didn’t even see or care about the last thing I wrote. So I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, smiled, and handed him his cup.
And then he looked me right in the eyes and smiled at me, and I swear he was trying to telepathically tell me he got my little note on his cup last time and he liked it. “Thanks,” he said. He kept his eye contact as he slid a tip into the tip jar that was in front of me. He walked backwards a couple steps, still smiling, and then finally turned away, running a hand through his hair and heading out the door.
He drove me crazy, and I didn't even know him. Maybe I was too obsessive for my own good.
But then something in the tip jar caught my eye. A small white piece of paper, inside of his rolled up dollar bills. I swear. He left me a note this time. Or maybe it was just a piece of paper or a receipt or something and I was too hopeful for my own good. So I was too nervous to check.
I served a few more drinks before I got up the courage to actually look and see. I pulled the lid off of the jar, an old pretzel rod jar with a slit in the lid, and I reached in. I had to be wrong. I knew I was, but I just had to check. So I pulled out his tip and unfolded his bills and there was the tiny piece of paper. And it wasn’t a receipt. It had written on it, a poem.
"Your eyes, green like the trees,
Your hair, gold like the sun,
Your presence, like a breath of fresh air.
You’re like going outside on a beautiful day,
After days of floods and torrential rain.
I think I’d like to meet you again."
It wasn’t until sometime the next week he had come in again. It was like an exact repeat. He came in, taking off his sunglasses, running a hand through his messy air, and I had involuntarily sucked in the air and held my breath, just like the first time I saw him. But this time Melanie wasn’t working. It was an older woman, Helen, who’d worked here for years and knew some of the costumers.
“Evan! How’s it going, what can I get you?”
“Hey, Helen. I’m just gonna get some plain iced coffee,” He responded, smiling a little.
His name was Evan. He came here often. He was hot and his voice was dreamy (is that weird?) and I was sure I was in love. Or in lust. Does it even matter which? All I knew was I was terribly smitten with this man.
Helen glanced at me. “Plain iced coffee, kiddo, let’s go.”
I didn’t mind when Helen barked orders are me., so I didn’t shoot her any deathly glares as I got his drink. I didn’t have anything to write on his cup this time, and I was still sure he didn’t even see or care about the last thing I wrote. So I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, smiled, and handed him his cup.
And then he looked me right in the eyes and smiled at me, and I swear he was trying to telepathically tell me he got my little note on his cup last time and he liked it. “Thanks,” he said. He kept his eye contact as he slid a tip into the tip jar that was in front of me. He walked backwards a couple steps, still smiling, and then finally turned away, running a hand through his hair and heading out the door.
He drove me crazy, and I didn't even know him. Maybe I was too obsessive for my own good.
But then something in the tip jar caught my eye. A small white piece of paper, inside of his rolled up dollar bills. I swear. He left me a note this time. Or maybe it was just a piece of paper or a receipt or something and I was too hopeful for my own good. So I was too nervous to check.
I served a few more drinks before I got up the courage to actually look and see. I pulled the lid off of the jar, an old pretzel rod jar with a slit in the lid, and I reached in. I had to be wrong. I knew I was, but I just had to check. So I pulled out his tip and unfolded his bills and there was the tiny piece of paper. And it wasn’t a receipt. It had written on it, a poem.
"Your eyes, green like the trees,
Your hair, gold like the sun,
Your presence, like a breath of fresh air.
You’re like going outside on a beautiful day,
After days of floods and torrential rain.
I think I’d like to meet you again."
♠ ♠ ♠
A lot of people read my first chapter, I got 2 subs and some of you told me you liked it :'). So here's a second chapter! Short again, I know, but the next one is longer with more dialogue (a good bit is already written, 5 more chapters, but I'm trying to space them out lol)Also, sorry if that poem sucks, but I haven't attempted to write poetry in about 6 years :p.