He was confused by her reaction to a simple question. In his mind, coffee was nothing more than coffee, but the way she responded made it seem like he asked her to go to his car for some afternoon delight. Her eyes, bright brown gems encased in a pillowy white, were wide and shocked, and he knew that would be the last time he saw them. He watched her walk away in the huffy air of disgust, confused and a little hurt. Turning back to the cafe, he walked inside under the scrutiny of wondering eyes and snickering jeers. Rushing to the line, he tried to bury himself in his jacket, tucking his head down as if he was a turtle ducking into its shell. He was never very lucky with women, always saying the wrong things at the wrong times, plans made going awry, either too forward or not enough. He cursed himself, knowing that this time he wasn't going to do anything but chat over two cups of coffee. He reached the front of the line, eyes still following him, eyes that watched the exchange from a distance and talked in unsubtle half-whispers behind veiled faces.
He wasn't sure how long he stood at the front of the line while those once humorous faces turned angry at being denied their addictions. He smiled in spite of himself, until the barista asked him what he wanted. He looked up and softly asked for a grande coffee with hazelnut, his eyes speaking louder than his words did. He had been served by her for almost four months straight and never noticed anything besides her apron and her branded visor, but today he noticed her name, the light reflecting off her eyes, the gentle smile on her lips, almost as if she knew what happened and found it cute in a way. He smiled as he waited, trying to make small talk, but the only conversation going on what the one in his head. He had no idea who this woman was, he only knew her name and that she made a wonderful cup of coffee. What was she interested in? What was her view on politics? The world? Everything? She handed him his drink and he handed her a crumpled five dollar bill and waked away. He was more upset now then he was before. He wanted to know about her. She woke a feeling in him that made him have to know more about her, but he couldn't place why. He took a seat by the window and pulled his notebook from his bag, pen from his pocket, and began to free-write. He had no idea how long her was there, the world looked as if it was moving in warp speed around him. Everything was moving fast, but her. She was the normal speed anchor amidst the trails of movement around them.
He felt a hand lightly touch his shoulder and his pen slid across the paper, marring his words with a quick dagger stroke. He looked up and fell into her smile, causing a smile to break out on his own face. She asked him if he was done with his drink so she could clean off the table. He shook his head no and thanked her, watching her smile and turn to walk away. Her name, say her name, he silently yelled to himself.
"Tara?"
She turned around quickly, giving him flashbacks as he cold almost see the movement lines whirl around her in a blazing robe of color. Her eyes were expectant, prompting him to ask her if she would like to join him. Her smile reached her eyes as she said she couldn't because she was working right now. His smile slowly slide from his face as he fumbled with the words to makes him seem less awkward. He wasn't sure exactly what he said, but she smiled again and turned to walk away. His eyes dropped like iron bars to the paper before him, looking at the words crawling across the page. He heard nothing for a moment, until he heard a light step next to his table and that gentle hand lay across his shoulder once again.
"I get off in thirty minutes, though, maybe you would like to go grab a cup of coffee or something?"
"That would be wonderful"
Their smiles connected as she turned to walk back to the counter. He shook his head like a dog coming out of the water. Things like this don't happen to him, he thought. He smiled and turned his eyes back to the paper in front of him, thinking that this story needs an ending. He pursed his lips and thought about it, but decided to end it the way he does many of his stories, with more to be told some other time. . .
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