Chapter Text
You were a writer, you’ve actually been one as soon as you figured out that being a writer was an option. It’s your passion, and you made sure to show it off whenever you had a writing assignment in school.
However, now that you’re an adult, writing has sadly become your side hustle. You have a few jobs actually, you have smaller occupations and one full time job. Now that you’re living on your own, you struggle to manage your thoughts better; so you’ve gotten back into old habits, slashing your thighs and arms when you get the chance.
If you had to be honest with yourself, you can’t afford to actually fix yourself. No matter how many jobs you have or how little things you buy, you can just barely pay off your rent by the end of the month. Stress constantly eats away at you, and you’re pretty sure you’ve grown gray.
You hesitantly tumble out of bed, it’s early in the morning, could even be considered night with how dark it is. Yet you know you have to if you want to have a house and food. Dragging your finger across the toggle for your alarms, you sit up, stretching long and hard. A few bones crack, you haven’t moved in a while, so you’re not very surprised by the sound.
You work at a coffee shop, it’s a cozy one at that. Located in an older, yet charming, library, it’s nice to hang out in. You’ve seen some college students study, whenever they study with friends or a partner it’s nice to hear people talk. Since your shift is so early in the morning however, it’s normally pretty empty. After all, who wants to go outside to get coffee at 5am?
You don’t exactly have a life, you’ve come to understand that. Yet, you don’t really seem to mind. You’ve never exactly had friends, or a real bond with someone other than your family; who you don’t talk to anymore, after they realized you were a lost cause. Besides, how can you be upset with your life when you don’t know how bad you have it? Everyone’s life could be like yours and you’re just being dramatic about it.
Well go and stop the pondering for now, you have to go to work. While standing up out of bed, you notice how truly horrible you look. Your skin is pale from the lack of sun, your eyes have dark bags laying under them, your body is thinner than normal. You don’t recognize the person looking back at you.
Stripping off the clothes you’ve worn for three days straight, you toss them into your nearly empty laundry basket. You don’t do laundry often, laundry for you is mainly just washing your clothes in the sink. It’s too expensive to get a washing machine anyway. You cover the mirror with your new outfit so you don’t have to get a glance of your naked body, it genuinely disgusts you. And you’d rather not feel sick before work.
Looking at yourself in the mirror, your outfit looks like something you would wear in high school. It’s just a plain black long sleeve and some jeans that are two sizes too large. You tried to look well put on your first few weeks of working, but after a while you started to not care once you noticed that nobody else cared. You end up putting your apron over it anyway.
Grabbing your messenger bag and placing a few necessities: your notebook along with a pen, some vanilla bean chapstick, your keys and your wallet, inside of the cloth bag, you sling it over your shoulder and take a good long stare at the empty wall ahead of you.
An alarm that you forgot to turn off practically gives you a heart attack, it played a song you used to like, but you quickly started to despise it after being slapped out of your peaceful sleep because of it. You slide your phone away, tucked into your pocket before sliding your feet into some basic shoes. They’re plain off-white shoes, they’re pretty dirty and a little too big, but they were really cheap and you can’t complain about that.
You lock the door behind you before walking down the carpeted hallway. The air has a thick scent of smoke and weed, you’re pretty sure at least one dealer is on your floor, but he’s been nothing but nice to you. So you haven’t said anything. You push the door to the stairs, carefully stepping down, not needing to fall and break your tailbone.
Once you reach the outside, the cold air immediately envelops your body. The familiar sensation on your nose and fingers, you take a breather of the air and step into the street.
After about fifteen minutes of silent walking and occasional mutual glances between you and people in formal attire, you reach the library. Pushing the door open and hearing the soft jingle of the bell allows you to take in your surroundings as you walk to the cafe. The shelves are no younger than ten years old, it’s quite obvious with even just a glance. They haven’t broke yet, surprisingly. They’re most likely just made of hickory. You see the familiar face of one girl, who always is sitting at the farthest table from the door. Yet you still don’t know her name.
You glance up at your coworker who immediately perks up at your appearance, dragging out a tired celebration as they walk to the employee’s only room; presumably to go and get their belongings and run out of the building. You follow behind them briefly, placing your bag into your small locker.
Once your coworker leaves and you clock in, you lean against the cool counter. No matter what season you were in, it always seemed that this building was always cold. It was a nice increase of business during the summer, people love a cold cozy building. Stuck in your train of thought, you barely notice the girl trying to ask for something, causing you to jump back and profusely apologize.
“Oh crap I’m so sorry! What’s up?” You try to make up for your previous awkwardness,
but you only seem to dig yourself a deeper hole. And you can’t help but internally cringe at that, but luckily, the girl is nice enough to not say anything about it. “No it’s all right, don’t worry.” She gently smiles,
and everything seems to calm down momentarily. “Could I get a small latte to go? I debated getting another because I doubt I need more caffeine, but who cares!” She laughs to herself,
gaining a small smile from you. “Yeah sure, your name?” You ask,
already going over to grab a cup. “I have to ask that even if you’re the only one here.” You loudly whisper to her,
acting all secretive as if there were cameras spying in on your conversation. She nods, playing along. “Maria.” She whispered back,
gaining a nod as you write down her name.
You quietly cash in the money she hands you and glance at her frame as she walks over to the bakery area to glance at the goods while you go over to make her drink. You fill the pot with coffee, it’s a nice black color, feeling comforting. It’s scent fills the air surrounding you, but you barely even register it. You pour the milk into the traditional latte ‘art’ even though you end up placing a lid over it anyway.
Walking back over to her, you smile- not with your teeth, you haven’t exactly brushed those in a while- and hand her the cup with a napkin around the base, to slightly filter the heat. She seems to notice and smiles in appreciation before waving goodbye and walking out, the soft jingle ringing throughout the bookstore as she leaves.
The smile she gave you still lingers on your face, that has been the first time you’ve had a positive interaction that wasn’t professional or lead to something bad. You can’t help but feel actual joy. A few hours pass, you watch the time tick by. 6, 7, 8AM. Only a few people came in before it hit eight, which is when most people come in and order ‘their usual’ when you have no clue who they are.
Your break comes at 10, and you sit in the back, just quietly writing down your experience with Maria. She was kind, and it didn’t seem like an act, maybe you were starved of positive interactions, but it practically made your week. You glance up as the alarm goes off, signaling your break to be cut. You aren’t as upset about it, because for some reason, you have some hope you can see Maria again.
Hours pass and work goes by like normal, you clock out with a sigh and look at yourself in the dirty mirror that looked centuries old. You seemed brighter, maybe it was the lighting. But you feel refreshed, mentally at least.
While you walk out and your coworker takes over, your body has to adjust to the cooler air, it was much less unpleasant inside the library. Your shoes pat against the ground as you hear clicks and clacks, cars whizzing by and conversations. Everything is alive, you realize.
Everyone around you had a beating heart, had organs and a brain. You did too. They had jobs to go to and had to work. You did too. They had families, stories and friends. You did not. You weren’t like them, they weren’t like you. But nobody would ever truly know that, to everyone, you’re another person in the sea of bodies. Your head spins, so does your body.
You can’t stop walking, not now. You can’t pass out here, just make it home. You can’t afford to wake up in a hospital, too expensive. Tears build up in your eyes, and just as you feel them, you realize you just had a distraction. You just had something to care about. Now you have nothing.