marți, 5 mai 2009

Coffee girl

Coffee Bar. 7 a.m. She sat at the coffee table, glancing at the pictures on the wall. Her short hair was all disheveled, fringes falling on her white shoulders. The steams coming from the kitchen filled the air with warmth, calming the slight shiver of her body. She felt sleepy, but the stain on her uniform kept reminding her to stay awake and wait for the customers to ring the silver bell at the entrance.
She was debating with herself. It was Monday. That means the old lady with camomile smell should show up at about 8 o`clock. And that Jane was going to bring her pretzels at lunch. Poppy pretzels , her favorites… Also, the editor from next block should come to have breakfast. Omelette. He would always order the same. And he would always have remarks on her way of serving: “Miss, my eggs are too close to the edge of the table!” “Miss, the painting of my coffee-cup is too pink this morning!” or “Miss, the light is too bright in this place, can`t I trade with the old lady there?”
Of course, he did that just to annoy her. He once tried to ask her out but she just told him to order only what`s on the menu. Since then, he was always in a bad mood and tried to get her negative attention. He did actually, even though she never let something slip away.
All the customers were dear to her. Specially the old ones. They were all so patient and kind.
But among all, there was him. She never knew in what day he would show up. But when he did… It was the time she had to do the most cleaning. Broken coffee cups, spilled juice, mixed up orders. The emotion of telling him: “As always, sir?” made her smile. Think about it, she actually knew the way he liked his coffee. 2 spoons of coffee, ¼ milk and no sugar. The colour of this mixture were the exact highlights in his hair. He was always busy with some book. Never glanced at her, never giving her more than just a simple smile.
Bang!Bang! The first customer entered. She felt relieved, it was the old lady. At least she will have a quiet morning, no signs of the editor. She poured some tea in a big cream-coloured cup and served her toast with strawberry jam, as usual.
Soon, the local was filled with people. All, busy with newspapers, books, work rapports… All, just having their usual orders. All, swallowed by their habitual gestures, their common chit-chat… This coffee bar was the kingdom of routine, where ordinary people had their ordinary coffee of their ordinary life.
She sighted… Bang!
It was him. He went to his usual place, his steps breaking the tranquility of her being. He smiled at her while she brought him his coffee. His eyes were all captured by the book, but a sudden thinness of a voice made him raise his head.
“Is that book of yours that good?”
She found herself in front of him, smiling and waiting for his reaction…

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