So I’m at this coffee shop I’ve never been before. With its weird yet so inviting smells, it takes me on a journey through its architecture and history. The pictures on the wall are perfect for every spot you sit in to experience something new, an old story perhaps. The atmosphere has character itself, but leaves an odd uncomfortable silence. The guy making the coffee has captured my attention. With his brown shirt, worn jeans, and kind of messy hair that is placed nicely into a faux hawk, has made making coffee very attractive . . . no that’s too strong of a word . . . perhaps interesting best suits the description. He makes no motion with frustration; everything about him is fun to watch, from the cute little smile to the ease of brewing a cup of water poured through ground coffee beans.
He suddenly is quickened in foot as more people come in the door, rushing to serve them all. The register makes a chinging noise, the sound you remember from when you were little playing grocery store clerk with your friends on a nice afternoon. Suddenly I’m interrupted with a thought, “I sure have explained a lot about the guy making coffee.” Oh well, what do I care, he doesn’t know I’m writing about him. He’s just so interesting I could watch him as though a movie was playing. Oh no, we made eye contact. Has he noticed me staring at him the whole time? He walks to the coffee table in front of me and suddenly, he moves the table aside, walks toward me, puts his knee on the couch near where I’m sitting as though he was going to sit down, my heart sinks… Confused, I notice he is just messing with the electrical box on the wall . . . whew. He goes back behind the counter to continue with his duties. I continue to listen to music in my ears while writing and waiting…Kim walks up. The end.