Sitting at one of the outdoor tables, he felt comfortable lighting a cigarette. He looked around for an ashtray, without any luck, and decided to improvise and use the lid from the empty cup he already had in front of him.
He liked having that extra time to himself to get settled, order, read a little, and think. The small, bistro-like round tables had just enough room for his laptop, current book, newspaper and breakfast order - which consisted of a cup of black coffee and a banana-nut muffin. The only thing that ever varied was the muffin flavor and which table he chose - sometimes the chairs got moved around so that it was difficult to find the one with the least rocking. And they usually had at least one ashtray floating around the outdoor tables. Maybe in their haste to open on time, they simply forgot. Or maybe it was the threat of rain in the gathering dark clouds above them that contributed to the half-hearted effort at setting up the outdoor area this morning. However the weather would end up later, for now he was happy to be outside.
She would be there soon, along with the rest of the crowd, and the talking and the noise would commence. But for now, it was still his time. He flipped though the pages of a new book he picked up from a friend whose high recommendation of it now seemed almost absurd, as it turned out not to hold his interest at all, not even in the first few pages he kept reading over and over. Giving up on that, he turned on his laptop and opened a Word file he had saved in a personal documents folder. He had been toying with the idea of presenting her with an original poem, but that proved problematic as well, since his taste, he felt, outweighed his talent. Reading what he had written so far, he added a few more words, and reread it two more times. Unhappy with the slow progress, and frustrated with his sudden inability to focus, he saved the file once again and closed the laptop.
He lit another cigarette and considered ordering another coffee. The wind picked up a little and blew a couple of napkins off his table. He reached down to grab them and, balling them up, threw them toward the wastebasket by the door. He missed and could not, with a clear conscience, just let them lay there. He took this opportunity to clear the rest of the trash off his table, pick up his computer, and go back inside to order another drink - tea, this time, to avoid a caffeine overdose.
He emerged a few minutes later with his second hot drink of the morning and returned to the table that still held his newspaper and his friend's book. She would definitely be there soon.
What else could he do to keep his mind occupied for the next few minutes while he waited? He obviously couldn't keep his mind on reading, and writing seemed out of the question, but why this lack of concentration all of a sudden? He had done this dozens of times in the past few months. Coming here had become his morning ritual. He would read, drink coffee, flirt a little with the girls who worked here, and eventually be on his way to work. Nothing had changed. Except he now had plans to meet a specific girl who had been there a few times before and caught his eye.
They had talked. He liked the way she unconsciously brushed the hair out of her eyes when she was trying to make a point, but let it stay there when she was trying to be cute and flirty. It worked, he decided, because it was the opposite of what you would expect a girl to do, especially one with such pretty, spectacularly dark eyes. He also liked her confident, almost bouncy walk, which he noticed almost right away. But the thing that drew him to her was her laugh, warm and sincere-sounding. He couldn't wait to kiss the soft, beautiful mouth he had watched so closely for the past week, doing his best to keep her smiling. Sometimes he was so busy watching her, and trying to keep her amused, that he wasn't quite sure what he had been saying.
This was to be their fourth meeting, but first actually planned one. He wondered if this fact could actually be the cause of his inability to focus on anything for more than two minutes at a time. He wasn't nervous about meeting her. It wasn't even really a date, just two people planning on being at the same place at the same time to chat for a few minutes before each had to begin their day. He considered that he may have allowed a little anxiety to seep in from his other life, the one outside of the coffee shop, and this disturbed him. This is where he came to escape the chaos of his real life - whatever “real” was anymore. This flirtation was so new and devoid of all that reality-based nonsense that it had provided a wonderful escape, but at what point would it become absolutely necessary to come back down to Earth and drag her down with him? It wasn't something he was ready to think about.
Another flame ignited yet another reason for his higher life insurance premium. He leaned back as he inhaled. Then, letting out a puff of smoke, he picked up his cup, forgetting that it now contained tea, took a surprised sip and wished he had opted for more coffee instead. Coffee and cigarettes - such a cliché, he thought, but an indisputably good combination. Especially on such a gloomy morning.
The clouds had taken over every inch of the sky by now, and were clearly threatening rain. Any minute now he would feel the first drop and would have to transport his possessions to safety. Normally, he would have sat there and played chicken with the rain, but he decided to give in and got up to hide his computer and reading materials in his car. He would come back to the same spot and wait to be rained out before moving inside, however. Nothing if not stubborn, he smiled to himself.
Having left nothing tangible to distract himself with, he tossed the remainder of his drink into the trash can and walked back in to remedy the coffee situation. They had the heat on, providing a rather dramatic contrast to the blustery weather on the other side of the glass. While in line, he looked around the room at the other faces who had come to sate their caffeine addictions. Those whose eyes met his, he smiled at. Others, involved in conversation, or simply uncomfortable with meeting the gaze of a stranger head on, he quickly glanced over. At the front of the line, he smiled at Susan--obviously someone new, since he had not seen her before today--and after asking her how she was doing on such a cold, dark day, ordered his coffee, adding a box of mints to his order from the display cleverly propped up against the register.
Walking away with his purchase he felt that Susan--a little young for him--had responded quite warmly to his friendly gesture of small talk, her body language all but screaming, “Ask me out.” This wasn't cockiness on his part, just something he had observed in service-oriented settings. The people performing the service often aren't used to being on the receiving end of courtesy. Sometimes his friendly gestures were misconstrued. Most of the time this did not create problems, just a warmer atmosphere. He also noticed that it was a cruel truth that the less he was interested in a girl, the more interest she was bound to show him. Ah, the hypocritical, schizophrenic, fickle nature of the human animal. But it wasn't something he was going to dwell on. Matters like these were fun to discuss with friends over a drink, but there was no need to get bogged down with the absurdity of it all in the course of day-to-day survival. Of course, he would discuss whatever she wanted, but other than just from his good nature (which he regularly questioned), this came from more of a pragmatic stance on his part. He didn't know where it would lead-he wasn't about to let himself think past today-but he was definitely interested to see what would happen with her. And was certainly not opposed to physical contact, he allowed, smiling at the understatement.
He had just finished another in a long line of killer-sticks, as one of his friends liked to call them, and was emptying his makeshift ashtray when he heard the brisk footsteps and the laughter. He looked up to see her turn the corner, her open coat fluttering in the wind. She brought a friend, as she had each previous time he had seen her. Who comes to these places alone anyway? Dumping the remainder of the ashes into the trash can, he began to walk over to meet her halfway.
