Chance and Change

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. The sun was slowly cresting the horizon, flooding the sky with color and setting the autumn leaves blazing. I smiled, taking another sip of my coffee and breathing in the crisp air from my porch. A car horn sounded faintly in the distance and the morning chorus of birds traded songs back and forth. 

What a morning it was, a beautiful fall morning. Of course, every morning was beautiful. It was a free restart, a fresh opportunity to go out into the world and be the best version of myself. 

That was why I really loved mornings, they made me feel the kind of cheesy where I said such things to myself, and it was a good feeling. It prepared me for each and every work day, saved me from the horrendous mood that my job had the infinite potential of drawing out of me. Yes, this morning meditation-like ritual had possibly saved my career when I started at the company and nearly lost all sanity, despite my love of the work. 

As the coffee in my mug drained to dregs, I took a final deep breath, smiled at the sun, and went back inside to get ready for the day. Put up my hair, do my make-up, pick today’s clothes, follow my routine. 

Armed for the day, I stepped out into the chilled morning air once again and headed for my car. 

Turning on the engine, I backed out of my driveway and onto the quiet road. My drive was a lovely one, with the trees on either side of me vibrant flares of color. Fall was, without a doubt, the best season. 

As I came into town, the trees fell away to be replaced by shops and stores and apartment buildings. As the city grew up around me, so did an immensely strong urge to visit the local bakery and coffee shop that was such a favorite of mine. I shook my head at myself. I didn’t have time to stop there, and besides, I never stopped there in the morning anyway. I tapped my thumb on the steering wheel and eyed the clock on the dashboard. 

The feeling only gnawed at me more strongly as I got closer to where I was supposed to be going. It seemed ridiculous, not to mention unprofessional, to be considering arriving late at work for the sake of getting a muffin. Even if they were the best muffins around. And the fall flavors were out. 

Ten minutes later I was parking on the street in front of the bakery coffee house. Life was too short to play by the rules every day. And I had texted the appropriate associates that I would be late, so I was still halfway responsible. 

I got out of my car with a hop and walked to the door happily. Spontaneity made me giddy. 

As I pulled the door open, the warm scent of freshly baked goods wafted out to meet me and I felt perfectly secure in my decision as I walked up to the counter. I ordered my fall favorite: pumpkin spice muffin with cream cheese filling, topped with roasted pumpkin seeds. It was truly a shame they only made these once a year. 

I sat at a small table tucked out of the way and began to slowly savor my treat. As I did so, my eyes wandered to a woman sitting a few tables down, facing me. 

She looked to be about my age and was drawn over a slim laptop, thick black hair pulled back in a ponytail and lips pressed into a thin line. A plain white coffee mug sat next to her, seemingly forgotten. 

I was soon proven right about the mug as the woman brought her hand down from where she had been rubbing her forehead and collided with it, sending black coffee in a wave across the table. She snatched up her laptop with a yelp. 

I jumped up from my table, grabbed some napkins from the bar close to me, and rushed over to her. 

“Here,” I offered her some of the napkins with a smile and began soaking up the damage. 

“Thank you,” she said in a defeated sort of voice. Balancing the laptop against her hip, she began to wipe up the table with me. “Thank goodness I had black coffee.” 

I laughed a little. “This is the only scenario where black coffee is a good thing.” I took the napkins and walked them over to the trash can. 

“Thank you,” she repeated as she set the computer back on the table and resumed her position in the chair. 

“Don’t mention it,” I told her with a smile, then hesitated. “Would you mind if I joined you?” 

She looked at me surprised, and then her brows drew together. The picture was one of much too much stress to exist in a coffee shop bakery. After a moment she shook her head. “No, no problem.” 

“Great,” I smiled broadly, “let me go get my muffin. Do you like the muffins here?” 

She nodded absently, already refocused on the screen. I chuckled to myself a little. On the way to grab my own muffin, I ordered an extra one for her and brought it over as well. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed when I set it down for her, “you shouldn’t have!” 

“Please,” I said easily, “I can see when someone is having a rough day, and anyone having a rough day deserves a muffin.” I was rewarded with a slight smile. 

“Thanks,” she said. I nodded, taking another bite of my own muffin. 

“What’s your name?” I asked her, relishing the thick spice flavor that lingered as I spoke. 

“Jess,” she murmured, squinting at something on the screen. Her keyboard tapped and then was silent again. “What’s yours?” She didn’t look up. 

“Triss,” I replied. “We rhyme," I laughed softly. Then I waited. It didn’t take very long. 

Jess sighed and closed her computer with a little more force than one would normally utilize with such an object. She picked up the muffin and took a slightly aggressive bite with a grateful look at me. My own was already halfway gone, sadly. 

“I think that I’m going to lose my mind, Tri..” She looked at me with a stricken expression.  

“Triss,” I supplied for her with a laugh. She smiled sheepishly at me. 

“Sorry, Triss. I guess being impolite is another of my failings these days.” 

“Oh, come on,” I told her. “We all forget names and get wrapped up in things when we’re stressed.” That was all it took. An open door, an outstretched hand, and her story fell from her like a bag of bricks. 

She told me about her divorce and how much of a mess it was. She told me about quitting her stable desk job, which she hated, and attempting to start a business that she had always had in the back of her mind. She told me about her family and how they all insisted that quitting her job was a mistake, that starting this business of hers was just some wild coping mechanism brought on by her divorce. I listened, I nodded, I smiled. 

When she had finished, I stood with my latte I had ordered when she got more coffee herself and reached into my small purse. 

“Fall is a fantastic time for changes,” I said, and handed her a business card. The business card for my company, which centered around building and maintaining websites for small businesses. Jess read the card, then looked at me wide eyed.  

“Go for it,” I told her. “Make like the leaves and set the world on fire with your passion for your business.” I winked, then strode for the door. 

“Thank you!” Jess called after me as I pushed it open.

I smiled, cold air rushing to meet me and stirring the blazing red leaves fallen from the small tree on the sidewalk.