I'm sitting on a wooden chair the color of blueberries. My feet are propped up on the neighboring chair as I sit and listen to the couple to my left talk about their opinion on the new movie Valentine's Day. Behind them is a girl reading a Bible while her feet dangle due to the elevation of the barstool. Immediately beside me is my friend Jess. All I can see is her eyes dart from left to right and all I can hear is the sound of her coffee mug hit the wheat colored table everytime she takes a sip. Diagonally behind me to my right is another girl skypeing with someone who seems to be either her sister or her best friend. I've seen her many times before. She's what people would call a "regular". The baristas know her usual order. Even I know: a medium dirty chai. Every 7 or so minutes, my thought process is disrupted by the noise of a blender that sounds like the whirring of a vaccuum cleaner. I think about putting my earphones in and listening to the sounds that Pandora chooses for me. But who needs music when I have a soundtrack surrounding me? The sounds of a page flipping to the next, the laughter of the couple to my left, the rapid talk of the girl on skype, the ceramic cup hitting the table every 2 mins. Even the volcanic sounds of the blender. It all goes together; a definitive factor of where I am sitting. If I were anywhere else, this would all be noise, not music.
I look towards the rocking chair with a winter starlight blue cushion that invites me closer. I succumb to the invitation and my body agrees much more to the comfort of this. I look out of the window beside me and watch as the snow makes magic of the sky; falling as if someone is gently grinding the flakes between their hands and sprinkling it lightly to illuminate the stone gray sidewalk. To follow one, single snowflake is difficult to do. Your eyes switch from flake to flake and then to the occasional person walking past. A woman has just walked past holding her child's hand as he skips to keep up. Her face is down to block the snow but the child's face is up to invite it.
My eyes eventually divert from the spectacle outside to the numbers at the bottom right of my computer screen. 5 o'clock is almost here so it is just about time to go.
Goodbye Coffee Mill. I'll be back tomorrow before you close your doors on Monday.
I look towards the rocking chair with a winter starlight blue cushion that invites me closer. I succumb to the invitation and my body agrees much more to the comfort of this. I look out of the window beside me and watch as the snow makes magic of the sky; falling as if someone is gently grinding the flakes between their hands and sprinkling it lightly to illuminate the stone gray sidewalk. To follow one, single snowflake is difficult to do. Your eyes switch from flake to flake and then to the occasional person walking past. A woman has just walked past holding her child's hand as he skips to keep up. Her face is down to block the snow but the child's face is up to invite it.
My eyes eventually divert from the spectacle outside to the numbers at the bottom right of my computer screen. 5 o'clock is almost here so it is just about time to go.
Goodbye Coffee Mill. I'll be back tomorrow before you close your doors on Monday.
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