Routines

You wake up at the appropriate time of 6:30 am only to hit the snooze alarm to give yourself another ten minutes. Despite it being such a short time, it makes you feel that warming sense of happiness, something you really do deserve. You get up at 6:40 and get ready for work. You shower, put on your suit and head to your coffee place.

Your coffee place is small but you like it that way. It is that type of small where as once you walk in, the smell of beans brewing and the hissing from the espresso machine greet your face as you enter. The whole café is lit by one single light, which is more than enough due to its small size and large windows. The ambient noise is stirred by the resided writers of the only four tables in the room frantically typing against the clock trying to beat the statistics against their success. Some will triumph, most won’t. Despite it being such a small coffee shop, there is never a line, and the barista always seems to light up when she sees you, which, in turn, makes you feel special.

She always greets you by name and you always notice that golden hue in her eyes. You find her attractive, but not in a sexual sense. She’s young, much younger than you, but she sits at an age where you do notice her looks and it is acceptable to do so. She has a beauty that is refined, but not unique. Maybe it is because of how nice she has always been to you, or maybe it is because you expect her to be there for you, but she has always made you feel like those times when you wrapped yourself in that blanket your grandma made you before you were born. You always felt the real sense of ok being able to see that barista.

She always knows what kind of coffee you want; yet she still asks you what you would like. You tell her the same coffee you have every day and she smiles in a way that seems to glide naturally in that social dance that you have with her. You pay, and then she twirls around to make your drink. You stand towards the side of the café, closer to the milk and sugar display in order to let anyone that would be behind you get their chance to experience that sense of ok too. No one ever stands behind you, but you do so anyway probably because of that finite amount of manners you have implanted in your cerebellum. Once she’s ready, she reaches over the counter to give you your coffee, and you extend for it in return giving you the chance to gently graze her fingers in an “accidental” way. You both smile at each other, and you leave.

You go to work and sit in your cubicle all day. Maybe it’s because of the way you sit, or the glow of the computer screen, but you sometimes end the day with a slight strain in the back of your head and pain right behind your eyes. You already finished the coffee before lunch, but at times like these, you wish you could run back to see her one more time to ask for another.

You leave at 6:00 pm, get home at 7:00. You make dinner, watch TV, and then go to sleep.

You wake up at the appropriate time of 6:30 am only to hit the snooze alarm to give yourself another ten minutes. You get up at 6:40, and get ready for work. You shower, put on your suit, and head to you coffee place.

All of the tiny tables in the coffee shop are still packed with those millennial candidates craving to be the next Ernest Hemingway. Today is lively loud, but mentally functional.

The barista sees you and lights up which makes you feel special. She asks you what coffee you would like, and you tell her the same coffee you have every day and she smiles in a way that seems to glide naturally in your social dance with her. You stand towards the side of the café closer to the milk and sugar display in order to let anyone that would stand behind you get their chance to have that sense of ok you just felt. No one ever stands behind you, but you do so anyway probably because of that finite amount of manners you have. Once she’s ready, she reaches to give you your coffee and you reach for it in return, gently grazing her fingertips. You remember the blanket and how perfectly cozy it was no matter what topical season you were currently facing. You both smile, and you leave.

You go to work and sit in your box all day. You don’t experience any health issues with that day, but your attention seemed to drift towards your phone every now and then. Your superior tells you you’re doing a “fine job” which you don’t believe. You leave at 6:00 pm, and get home at 7:00. You make yourself dinner, watch TV, and then go to sleep. Despite being alone, you always leave an extra pillow on the right side of the bed for someone in your future.

You wake up at the appropriate time of 6:30 am but hit the snooze alarm to give yourself another ten minutes. You get up at 6:40, and get ready for work. You shower, put on your suit, and head to you coffee place.

The room is filled. You see her, and she sees you and you both go through your rhythm of genuine happiness and comfort. You share a love and a friendship that will never cross the counter that separates you two, but you know that the relationship you created with her is part of everything you need to make the rest of the day bearable, to make the notion that you haven’t done anything meaningful with your life ok. You hope she knows that too, but you will never tell her because she is far too young to understand the sours of growing up. It is ok because you are in your place, your safe space. It is now ok.

Looking at the golden hue in her eyes you’re reminded of how colorful that blanket was despite how many washes it had.

You go to work and do what you’re told. Your mind starts to mull over halfway during the day, you come home tired and bored.

You get home at 7:00, make dinner, watch TV, and then go to sleep. You consider making a dating account so someone can occupy that pillow next to you, but you fall asleep.

You wake up at the appropriate time of 6:30 am, only to hit the snooze alarm to give yourself another ten minutes. You get up at 6:40, and get ready for work. You shower, put on your suit, and head to you coffee place.

You enter the café and feel the hissing from the espresso machine as you enter. The hissed wind, as well as the scent of roast from the beans, lets your anxious stomach settle. You cascade over the tiny café only to see that one of the tables is empty.

Wait, one of the tables is empty.

You stare at the empty seat and try to rack your brain of who usually sat there.

Who could it have been?

That guy is there, yes, and that girl is there, ok, but who was there?

You hear a question break your concentration only to see another coffee girl standing at the counter. She asks you what you would like to have. You stare and finally answer stumbling in response. She, in turn, naturally stares at you confused and displays the awkwardness that you both feel. She is beautiful, but you find that her eyes have dullness behind them. Despite that plastered on smile you know she is not happy to see you.

You uneasily order your drink and wait for her to give it to you in front of the counter. No one waits behind you but you still stand at the counter feeling eager to leave. She pauses, probably unsure due to the oddity in your demeanor, but proceeds to make your drink anyway. You pay, she smiles, uncomfortably, and you leave.

During you break at work you lay back in your swivel chair looking up at the office tiles on the ceiling. Despite how many times you try to count how many small holes there are in each tile you keep wondering where your coffee girl might be and why there was an empty table. You think about how the barista’s eyes shined and how bubbly she was whenever you walked into the room. You will ask her what happened when you see her tomorrow.

You have a headache throughout the day because you threw out the coffee the other barista made. It wasn’t good; the coffee was definitely burnt.

You get home at 7:00 and have soup from a can for dinner. You fall asleep on the couch watching TV.

You wake up at the appropriate time of 6:10 am and get up ready to get to the café as early as possible. You decide this time you’ll get a pastry so you can have more time to talk to the barista. You shower, put on your suit, and head to you coffee place.

Before you open the door you notice a missing ad in the center, right in front of your face. You recognize her to be one of the table dwellers. She is pretty, young, and is smiling in a way that you know she was once one of those nice high school athletes, the ones you used to hate because they were beautiful, smart, and kind and were going to do bigger and better things later on in life. She might have been stuck writing at the table, but her work would have been published by the time she was done. She just had that luck. You open the door only to lose that hopeful smile that your coffee girl would be there waiting for you.

On the bottom of the counter were three more of the same missing ad that was on the door and above that stood the other barista. She hesitantly smiles, remembering all the actions you did yesterday, and asks what you like to have. You order your drink, and she leaves to make it.

You carefully follow her along the other side of the counter, and she pretends she doesn’t notice you there. You ask about the other coffee girl and she responds that she hasn’t come to work at all these past couple of days. She tells you that she hasn’t shown up for work or called either, so the new girl has been covering for her but she thinks that, “she’s must be like… fired you know?”

You don’t know, and you don’t understand, but you silently and gently nod your head. She gives you your drink and you leave.

At work, you hear the others talk about the missing pretty girl on those missing ads. During your break, you read about how much she volunteered and helped others in her community. It seems to be a big concern for everyone.

There is no mention about your barista friend.

You leave 7:00, go home and go to bed. You’re not feeling that hungry. You go to bed ignoring the pillow to your right. That side of the bed just feels too cold.

You get up at 6:45 after hitting the snooze button a couple of times. You shower; get dressed, and go to work.

You walk by the coffee shop just to see if she was still there. You noticed the missing posters have tripled in volume. The other coffee girl stands at the counter looking through one of the pamphlets resting near the freebie section next to the cash register. She doesn’t see you walk by and you hurry along to keep it that way.

You go to work and decide to have the coffee there. Since you’re early, you check to see if there any information on your friend, but you couldn’t wade through the clutter of the other missing girl. You become short tempered with your frustration, which worries the rest of your coworkers.

You go home early due to the advice of your HR representative. You drive by your coffee place one more time hoping to see her, to see any part of her that can prove to you that she’s alright, that it can still be alright. She isn’t there, but you see the door is filled with missing flyers of the table girl. Out of annoyance, you pull the center flyer off only to see a small leaflet of your barista girl, also missing. You scan the rest of the flyers to see if there are any others but realize it was only this one, obstructed by the other girl’s importance. The small handout must have been buried behind all the other information for days. People forgot, and moved on, and she stayed behind living only in your memory and on that door.

You hold the paper in your hand and see her smile and get that cold lonely feeling you get when you stare at the extra room in your bed. You think about when you came back from college and your mom told you she threw out your grandmother’s blanket because it just “fell apart”. The paper in your hand is already turning a yellowish color after the probable oxidation or condensation of pollution that has corrupted its once pristine edges. You tear down several of the missing ads for the table girl, and put your barista back where she was. She smiles at you, and you stare back knowing that tomorrow she will be replaced one again with the main one.

The other barista girl sees you and grins. You force a smile back and softly wave as you walk away.

You go home and watch the news hoping to see something only to be disappointed by the reality that magic doesn’t happen when you’re an adult. You go to bed and turn off your alarm. You’ll make yourself coffee tomorrow at home.