Just that. Short.
She leaned against the window of the train, pressing her forehead hard. Her skin turned white at the site of pressure and she could feel it throb slightly. Green and black intermingled blurs whizzed past. She shifted in her seat and looked down at her shoes. Idly, she thought, "I need to polish them when I get home". But, she knew inside when she got home, her boots would lay forgotten. Unpolished when she wore them next.
The mechanical female voice announced the arrival of the train at Queen Street. Equally mechanically, she got off and trudged (for the want of a better word) through the turnstile, the ticket machine swallowing her ticket deep into its metallic bowels. Outside, a young woman touting the FT magazine looked at her hopefully as she walked towards her. Hastily, she crossed the road, thinking to herself, "Not this time. I just want to be alone." Springing unbidden, a mountainous peak appeared in her mind's eye and she envisioned herself sitting alone, and just being.
A loud honk from the road she had just crossed drew her back to reality. She glanced up at the shop signs and
Caffè Nero caught her eye. She walked in. Stood in front of the expectant waiter/cashier and searched her bag, looking for her purse. Finding it, she randomly ordered the first thing she saw advertised on the chalkboard. A regular Caffè Latte. Lucky she saw that first and not the expresso macchiato. She hated the macchiato.
As the barista turned to prepare her drink, she stared at the cake display. The pristine white top of a marzipan coated pastry with criss cross chocolate lines stood out. The barista asked, "Anything else?" She answered, "A slice of... almond torta also", reading the cake label. "Right." The barista smiled at her as he slid open the door and selected the biggest piece for her, probably deciding she needed a sugar high to smile. He rang up the purchase, announcing the price and she paid.
"Got the loyalty card?" She looked blankly at him. He tapped the box of cards on top of the counter, explaining the concept of stamping the card when getting a drink. She nodded her consent as he ended with a smile. The cashier assured her, "Don't worry. It's valid at any Caffè Nero in the UK." She smiled wanly. He grinned back, his blue eyes sparkling in the dim light and pushed the plate of cake towards her. "You should smile more. You look more beautiful when you do."
For a second, she looked startled. Then, she replied, "What's there to smile about?" She indicated her right hand, showing him her index finger and said, "I lost my favourite ring today."
"Sorry to hear that. Maybe you'll find it soon."
"Yeah. Maybe." She answered.
"The sugar's over there", he said, pointing to the far corner of the cafe. "Take care, love."
"Right, thanks." She carried her coffee and cake to an empty table. She sat down and looked at her food. Amazingly, she wasn't hungry, having eaten nothing but a sandwich in the early morning. She sighed and picked at the cake, allowing the crumbs to fall on to the plate. She sipped her coffee - bitter. Like her day. She nibbled at her marzipan icing - saccharine sweet. Like how she had hoped her life would be everyday.
A storybook -
Love is A Four Letter Word - was retrieved from her backpack. She thought to herself, "My life is just a four letter word too." Pages were turned intermittently to give the presence of the idea of the book being read, but she read nothing. Her eyes were unseeing as her thoughts were miles away. Every so often, she would pick at her food.
Across from her, a couple looked curiously at her. "Someone so young shouldn't look so sad. She has her whole life in front of her", they thought privately to themselves. A young man sitting two tables away from her, debated within himself if he should walk up and say hello to her. Feeling someone's eyes on her, she looked in his direction. Her eyes met his, her chocolate brown ones twin pools of direct honesty and yet unexplained sadness reflected within, that he was compelled to look away. He felt a twinge of sympathy for her and turned back to his coffee, flipping to the next page of his open magazine in front of him.
And so the time passed. Just like that. An hour and a half.
Realizing it was getting late by the customers emptying themselves out the door, she pushed her cup away and stood up. Slung her backpack over her shoulder and as she walked out, she dropped a 40 pence tip into the cup for the blue-eyed barista.
"Cheers, darling," he said as he smiled his thanks.
She echoed back, "Cheers."
She walked out, unrealizing the magnitude of impact she had made on his day, not knowing really, what effect she had made in the universe by simply walking into a coffeehouse to have a drink.
