A table for one

The drizzle outside has started to pick up. The drops are growing larger with every passing moment. The gap in time between their fall is getting smaller. The pitter patter sound they make as they splash on the ground is becoming louder. Ever since I was a child, I never could tell if it was raining strongly to take cover or was it mild enough to enjoy it just a little more. It's the reason I fall sick every rainy season. I am still wondering about why it is so when a soft but assertive hand pulls me into the coffee shop. We stand against the door, a slight puddle forming ahead of us. I turn sideways to avoid stepping into the puddle as the opening door squeezes us even closer together. I bump into her a little bit. Her cotton dress is soft to my touch. She is slightly taller than me, slim but strongly built. There is a confidence I sense in her. And she smells like hope. Hope mixed with chocolate and vague citrus.

"I am sorry." I shake water off my trousers before looking up. And there she is.

I would not call her face beautiful in the conventional sense, but there is a certain unmistakable charm to her looks. Her face is slightly oval, dark eyes behind an oval frame of glasses that mimic her face. Her hair is slightly wet as she slowly tucks it back behind her ears. Her eyes catch mine and a smile forms on her lips. There is a slight tremor on her upper lip - perhaps it is the nip in the air.

"Well, I am not! I am not sorry." she mischievously responds as I try to step away from her.

"You would be if you don't try their Dark Chocolate Mocha with Candied Orange. It's number five on the menu. Do not add any sugar." she says with a familiarity I cannot imagine to muster with even my family.

"Excuse me, do we know each other?"

"I don't need to know you to suggest good coffee. Do I?" she picks up an umbrella in a smooth motion and opens it up as she steps away from the store.

"Do not forget to write feedback." She turns and smiles back.

"At least give me your name."

"Remember to give feedback." she laughs whole heartedly before stepping off the curb and walking into the rain.

The rain picks up more as I enter the cafe.

My eyes take a couple of minutes to adjust to the soft light inside. There is light music in the background. I cannot make out the words, but it is loud enough to cover the sound of rain. I cannot hear any of the others talking. It is eerily quiet. I scan the tables and about half of them are occupied. Strangely, each of the tables has just one customers - no couples, no families, no group of friends. Maybe it is not so strange after-all. Every single one of the customers is quietly sipping their drink - some while looking at their phone screens, a few reading and one of the older ladies seems to be engrossed in a puzzle. She has the pieces spread out in front of her on a low table. From where I am standing, it looks like a jig-saw puzzle. I cannot make out the details but it is about half done. The table has two empty cups of coffee and the waitress carries a third one to her.

I take the table furthest from the door. I can still hear bells in my head.

Dark Chocolate Mocha with Candied Orange

I have to order something before I can write in their feedback register. I will just order what she said. What is the harm?

The waitress walks over to me after setting the third cup on the low puzzle table.

"Yes, sir - would you like to scan the menu?" she starts to get a device from her apron.

"No - I would like the Dark Chocolate Mocha with Candied Orange please."

"And what would like it with?"

"That's it. Just the coffee."

"May I suggest our blueberry muffins - they are fresh out of the oven, and the first batch is on the house."

I am tempted. But none of the other customers have the muffin. Maybe because it's the first batch of the day.

"Yes, please. That would be great."

The waitress walks away to get my order. I scan the room around me, but cannot seem to focus on anything except her smell and the timber of her voice. I can still feel her around. This is the first time I feel this way. I have only read about this feeling. This fleeting moment when everything melts away and only the object of your affection remains. I can picture her still - stepping off the curb, her hair tumbling behind her caressing her shoulder blades.

"Here you go. Enjoy your coffee."

She places my order in front of me. The muffin looks moist and sweet. I think to my self - perhaps I should start with that. I pick up my knife and cut a slice. It is a rather big piece, so I hold it in my hand and take a bite. It tastes better than it looks - if it is even possible. I take a sip of the coffee that the girl with the umbrella suggested. It tastes like a drop of heaven.

"Yes! Yes! In your face - all your bloody faces!" The old lady spills a little bit of the coffee as the last piece from her hand falls in place on the puzzle board. It breaks my trance. I am not sure for how long I was drinking my coffee. The rain outside has settled down. I motion over the waitress over for my bill. As I pay, I also ask for the feedback register. She brings over the book. I open to the last filled page - it is dog eared.

I can hear the bells again as the umbrella girls' voice fills me up. The words in the diary come alive in the voice of the girl "I was having my usual coffee today when a sudden rain erupted. There was no forecast of rain today. It happens sometimes. The traffic came to a near stop outside, except that one guy. He was spinning around in the rain free. His forest camouflage t-shirt swirls as he turns, distinctly visibile against the city landscape. The irony. His laughter seemed infectious. I was jealous. I could see from the cafe’s window and feel his joy, a sense of belonging that none of us could have. Not on this side of the window. His eyes locked on to mine and he stopped mid spin. I tried to look away, but I could not. He blinked first when the yellow car hit him. He flew a few feet and hit the ground before it hit him again. No one could have survived that fateful accident. It was fate. I wish I could change it."

The room spins around me as her voice fades into the background. I look down and see my forest camouflage shirt. In the eyes of my mind, the table breaks my fall as one of the corners hits the side of my temple. I can feel a slight wetness - perhaps I am bleeding. I try to touch my head. Then I fall to the ground, hitting the back of my head. I try to catch the feedback book - it is open on the table. I forgot to read her name. And now it doesn’t matter.