Chapter Text
the sounds of people let you forget you were alone. in a coffee shop time stops for a bit. everyone’s connected by the smell of espresso, the quiet click of computer keys, and an undoubtedly stressful project.
across the shop in another corner he caught your eye. not long enough to take in the small things but enough to appreciate how his bangs lightly kissed his forehead. how he frowned slightly at the piece he was working on. how he was surrounded by what had to be 5 cups of coffee. how he was alone.
with that, you returned to your book and absorbed yourself in the scent of coffee and the constant hum of the blender. the image of the stranger faded quickly in favor of the tattered book that sat on your knees.
with the sun long gone you closed your book with a gentle smack and packed up for the day. in the corner still sat the mysterious stranger, but you only spared him a quick glance. in your mind the day had ended. the door of the coffee shop opened up into the outside world, ripping you from the temporary euphoria found in your favorite hiding place. the smell of coffee replaced by various food stands and the sound of blenders replaced by the sounds of the city.
at home curled up in your bed you scribbled in the same journal entry as the previous day and the day before that “nothing eventful, but a good day.” content with your writing you opened your window to let the moonlight and cool breeze in and waited to drift to sleep.
the following week school work didn’t allow you to visit your favorite place. you longed to see the faces of the patrons, both familiar and strangers. oh how you missed your own personal hole-in the wall.
that weekend, however, you finally had time to go. and so, you did. the winter air required a bit of bundling, but within your layers of clothes you were wrapped head to toe in warmth. despite the chilly atmosphere you decided it was a good day to walk. to enjoy the city that surrounded you. perhaps to take in the things you never appreciated before while there train whizzed by.
upon your arrival at the cafe you again saw the stranger. not yet your stranger. he sat frustratingly comfortably in your favorite spot occupying the space that you had silently claimed your own. you ordered your coffee with a bit of bite that day, frustrated by the situation. coffee and book in hand you chose the chair closest to your favorite spot and began to read.
absorbed in your novel, time became little more than an empty word. however, at some point curiosity overtook you. every few lines you would look up to take in the stranger before you. rather than his hair or his lips you noticed his hands. the care with which they created art. their ability to transfer his feelings upon a page. you couldn’t quite see what he was working on but it didn’t matter. his person had captured your interests. he seemed not to care that his fingers were deeply stained in favor of expressing himself with the oil paints sprawled out around him. a captivating sort of passion that seemed to make the world around him silent. he seemed the opposite of you who liked to absorb yourself in the volume of the company of others.
another day in the cafe for the first time you tuned into the music surrounding you. a warm burst of air was there to greet you. of course, once again your artist stranger sat in what he now claimed as his spot. this time, however, curiosity stood where irritation had originally sat. you took your place beside him confidently and waited for the right time to continue your investigation into his person.
this time, however, it was his turn to inquire. while his hands never ceased their work, his eyes were curious of the stranger in front of him. with careful glances he took notice of the nose your glasses sat on, the eyes focused intently on the beat-up novel in your hands, and the completely relaxed nature with which you sat in the chair. and then he returned to his tablet. no words exchanged, just a collection of alternating stolen glances filled only with inquisitiveness. the only sound between you being the light scratching of the stylus on his tablet.
you happened to leave at the same time. the day drew to a close at the same time for the two of you. he absentmindedly held the door open for you and you parted ways. both minds occupied by the curious thought of the other, but romance remained a distant possibility. in the present the connection barely flickers to life. a dull spark compared to the lightning storm of the future.