A sweet misery

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. A perfect orange sheet lay in the garden surrounding my apartment complex. I walk down what once used to be a well-polished stone staircase but was now chipped and weathered with the daily commute of the hundreds of residents like me. Overgrowth was visible on multitudes of cracks on the similar stoned pathway leading to the main road. Living in a neglected part of the town, I couldn’t expect much better maintenance of the surrounding property. The garbage van sometimes didn’t come for weeks at times, leaving the place reeking of rotten meat and other abhorrent smells known to humanity. This is when one truly starts to detest the living conditions.

Most people you meet here will complain about how everything smells and how shady the place gets in the nights. I’m definitely a part of them. But that isn’t to say that the place doesn’t have its niceties. The surrounding gardens for one are some of the most beautiful things you’ll ever see. The neatly trimmed grass and perfectly cut hedges are simply soothing to walk by as the sun slowly rises over the horizon and edges towards the complex, creating intricate shadows by bouncing its light off of the trees and bushes. The serene scenery is something straight out of a movie as you hear the sparrows and the cuckoos sing melodious tunes while a cool breeze blows your hair and leaves you brimming with happiness. At least until you decide to turn closer to the complex and hear the families fighting and screaming at each other over the most mundane of matters.

But Autumn is when the garden truly shines. The mornings and the evenings a brilliant golden as the rays of the sun hit the fallen orange leaves. The feeling of you walking on the fallen leaves and hearing each of them crunch under the soles of your shoes is one of the most satisfying sounds one can ever hear in their lifetimes.

And luckily for me, pumpkin season was here. I would finally get some rest from my humdrum 9-to-5 job as I choose to spend the 7 days of my allotted paid holidays during this wonderful time of the year to enjoy the city’s scenic beauty and the bustle of the crowd of my fellow equally internally exhausted human beings.

So here I was today, wearing an orange Led Zeppelin t-shirt along with my favourite khaki shorts, ready to hear the crunch of the leaves under my foot while I drink a seasonal pumpkin spice latte and enjoy watching people go through their daily routines. My hair was as steady as ever leaning to the left of my head in an unwanted side sweep. I have always wanted wavy, messy, and disobedient hair which ruffles as the wind passes through it. Novels in modern times have romanticized the messy hairdo to such an extent that it feels like a crime and aesthetically unattractive to have any other form of hair. People with messy hair complain about how it gets in the way and is unpleasant for them in a lot of manners. But I think they on the inside do know how attractive they look with it and wouldn’t trade it for the simple straight hair from a poor peasant such as me.

But this morning isn’t about my hair, it’s about coffee, people, coffee, nature, and even more coffee. So now starts my daily journey towards the main city as I walk peacefully with my hands inside my pockets and an as yet unsuccessful attempt at whistling a song. I usually take the bus during the busy office days. But not today; today, I walk. My part of the city isn’t exactly very far from the main city and when walking at a moderate pace, one can travel between the two places in half an hour quite comfortably. As I walk, I notice the regular happenings of the day. The lady from around the block is walking her dog while chatting along with her husband about how rugged capitalism is only enforced for the poor and how biased it is towards the rich. Luckily, politics has never really interested me. Don’t get me wrong, I do vote and you should too. But I look at the agendas the present candidates support and simply vote the one whose ideology I relate better with. I for one don’t have any allegiances to any political parties.

Next in line is the old man sitting outside on a bench smoking his pipe all alone while staring into the distance and most probably reminiscing the good old days of his youth and how lonely he has become over the years. And in this manner, I keep looking at more people who pass by me and listen into the bits and pieces of their lives they drop quite oblivious to who is listening.

Finally, I reach my coffee shop. It isn’t a big branded store, rather a simple locally owned store which has somehow managed to remain in business as others like it have fallen. The smell of coffee fills my body as I enter the shop and greet Rick, the owner of the house. As I wait in line for my blend to be ready, I remember a time one of my friends had asked me why I preferred to drink from here when I could simply go to Starbucks next door and get their ever-popular variant of the pumpkin spice latte. The simple answer? The taste. The Starbucks variant is too sweet and kills the taste of the coffee itself while Ricks place manages to give me a good different pumpkin flavour while managing to keep the bitter coffee taste alive. One is entitled to any different opinion of theirs, of course. It’s just that an opinion such as that would be cited as stupid by me.

So, I grab my coffee and proceed to sit in one of the many chairs put up outside the shop. As I sit there sipping the coffee and gazing all around the place, a certain someone catches my eye. Sitting quietly in the corner in one of the chairs is a beautiful woman. She seems to be disinterestedly sipping her coffee while looking around as if waiting for someone. I feel something which I haven’t felt since the days of my high school years. Pure elation and joy. I seemed to be developing a crush towards this wonderful lady and thus as any sensible minded person would do, I decide to stare and observe her.

She is wearing a pretty, knee-length red skirt embellished with a thin black belt and black leggings covering the rest of her legs. She wears a full-sleeved striped black and white top which is tucked into the skirt of hers. Red sandals adore her feet, and a beanie on her head with strands of hair falling out and covering her face in bits complete the collection of clothing on her body.

Her body is of fair complexion but has a warm yellow undertone making her skin shine in the sun. Brilliant black hair with a cute wavy pattern is completely visible as she takes off her beanie and puts it in the small yellow purse she is carrying. She makes no attempt to get the hair off her face as it slowly inches towards the edge of her eyes. Those beautiful hazel eyes. Strikingly big and warm eyes still keep looking around in search of something or someone. She wears no makeup except for a very subtle eyeliner. She has a not very small but not very big nose. A medium sized, if you will. And those lips. She has natural, supple rosy lips. I look at those lips and all I feel is a strong desire to kiss them. Her facial features compliment her facial structure in the most perfect manner possible.

As I continue to observe her, I notice she wears a simple chain with a pendant on it, but it’s hard to discern what it exactly is from a distance. She also wears a silver bracelet in the shape of two entwining circles in her right hand. Her left hand is graced by a simple and elegant silver ring.

Half an hour passes and I continue to stare and observe. I come to the conclusion that she might not be waiting for someone in particular but rather much like me, she might like to observe the passing foot traffic. With such a hopeful thought in my mind, I decide to go ahead and attempt to introduce myself to her. But before I even reach halfway to the table, there is a man there. The woman jumps up as soon she spots him and they lock in an embrace. I sheepishly start heading back towards my chair and once again sit down. But that does not happen before I manage to grasp what I assume to be this woman’s name. He calls her Anne. I’m not sure if what I heard was correct, but I much prefer to have a name to a face, and so I decide to contentedly go back to sipping my coffee and minding my business.

I attempt to go back to looking at people and enjoying them but I simply can’t bring myself to do that. Anne still sits facing me and her face keeps distracting me from the rest of the crowd. I get a feeling of slight annoyance to be completely honest. I get annoyed that while I haven’t even talked to her, my brain still decides to ignore any and all other forms of stimulation and chooses to focus on her and her only. Alas, who am I to ignore the cravings of my heart, and so I decide to look at her a bit more closely than before.

She seems much happier than before. Not nervously fidgeting around anymore by continuously having her eyes wonder. Her eyes now rest intently upon the man in front of her whom I only assume to be her romantic interest. She keeps laughing in the middle of her conversations. Her laugh fills up the place and instils in me a certain kind of joy and childish happiness that I didn’t know I was still capable of experiencing. Her smile strikes me as one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. She has this state of her face wherein she isn’t resting but isn’t smiling either. It’s a joyous expression and this is when her top lips curve in a beautiful manner. Just before she smiles, her top lip curves upwards and outwards at the same time and makes her face all the cuter and more attractive to look at. When not talking, the couple simply holds hands and embrace the silence. This moment is when her free hand ventures and taps the table in perfect rhythm. She sits there in silence while her hand keeps making music and I keep trying to recognize the songs she plays.

Morning turns to afternoon before I realize what time it is. Looking at her, I didn’t realize how long had I been staring at that beautiful face of hers. The crowds have started to grow a bit as everybody decides to come out and eat below the open sky during their lunch hours. This is the time when Anne and the man decide to settle their tab and take leave. I hurry behind them to pay up and leave the place. As I come out, I realize the true extent of the crowd. They seem to have disappeared already. I chide myself at my foolishness and question what would I have achieved by following them. I cannot seem to answer my question but I still cannot bring myself to know that this gorgeous woman whom I just felt my heart beating towards is just simply gone even without a hello.

My eyes keep wandering all over the place, glossing over every other detail and focusing solely on looking for Anne as I head back home for a quieter evening in one of the garden benches. I cannot seem to find her, but her thought still lingers in my mind. I assume I’ll forget all of it by the evening.

The evening comes around, and I go about crushing the leaves while enjoying the beautiful sunset and the melodious banter in the apartment complex. But her thought still lingers. I go back home and stand stupidly in front of the mirror while trying to curl my own lip, the way I had seen hers curl. After some minutes of trying, I accept that I simply can’t pull it off the way she did and again chide myself for being so childish.

The night is longer than I expect. I’m uncharacteristically still thinking about Anne. I keep trying to remove my train of thought from her to anything else but to no avail. I keep thinking about how gorgeous she looked and the enchanting manner in which she laughed. I finally manage to go to sleep after I get tired thinking and remembering simple and nonchalant details about her.

A new morning arrives and I am once again ready to leave for the city. Today, I decide it shall be a different corner that I shall visit after my coffee. I again walk past and see the dog being walked and the old man smoking his pipe. I still observe more and more new people, but somewhere down in my heart, I hope I get to see Anne again today. Maybe just a look, maybe I would even be able to introduce myself. What good would it do? I have no idea. The heart doesn’t really seem to understand rational thought procedures.

With that shining ray of hope, I get my coffee and sit down in the exact same place as yesterday. I try to scan around and look for any signs of her. Alas, there are none. She might be late is how I try to convince myself. I decide to wait for a few minutes after my coffee is over. Minutes turn into hours and still no sign of her. I lose myself in thought and do not budge until am bumped in the shoulder by a work colleague.

“What song is that?” he asks. All I can do is stare blankly at him for a better explanation of what he means. He stares back blankly as well. He is just about to explain when someone calls him to join their table. “You better tell me what song that was when we meet next. It sounded beautiful.” is all he says before rushing to the table the call came from.

Only after he is gone, do I realize how late it is. Lunch yet again. I skim my eyes through the crowd hopefully once again, but I can’t find her. Once I start to get up, only then do I notice what he meant; I was absent-mindedly tapping the bench to create music. I simply chuckle to myself.

I decide to head back home. I might not have seen Anne again, but she left an impression. Without saying a single word, without sharing a single glance, she gave me something I hadn’t experienced in ages. She gave me feelings of pure joy and elation. And even now that she’s gone somewhere, I still have something to remember her by. And as simple and stupid it is, I plan on keeping it.