I'm Going On Break

The line at the counter keeps growing, but the smile on her face doesn’t waver.

She’s wishing she hadn't picked up this shift, but Chelsea has the flu for the third time this month and had begged her to take it. So, she did like a good employee and took one for the team.

"What can I get you?"

She listens attentively to the cute boy in the Pink Floyd T-shirt. Struck immediately by his baby blue eyes that looked too pretty to be natural, like they were drawn by a world-renowned tattoo artist.

“Can I just get an iced vanilla latte? Extra shot too.”

"Of course” She rings him up and takes his card, smiling wide as she hands it back. Lost in his eyes, over analyzing them and hoping he doesn’t notice. She thinks she’s been staring too long.

“It'll be right out." She says.

“Thanks” he says and walks away to sit at a nearby table.

“Mel, do you have those two lavender matches ready?” She hears Jeffra, one of the baristas, ask from behind her shoulder and her mind wanders back to her dreadful reality. When she turns around she sees that Mel did not in fact have those lavender matches ready and Jeffra has taken over for her.

She finishes taking orders for the last few customers left in line and then goes over and lightly rests her hand on Jeffra’s shoulder. "I'm going on break. Cover me.” She takes off immediately and doesn’t offer Jeffra the chance to protest. She earned this break and she needs it right now.

She breaks through the dark blue curtains leading to the back room, takes off her apron and hangs it in her assigned locker. Then, she grabs her notebook and takes it to the back patio.

She sits down and lights up a cigarette, careful not to get ash on her notebook. She scribbles down a thought she'd been afraid to lose.

Break my routine

With those baby blue eyes

We're all walking around

But only few of us alive

ARRRGHHHHH!!

She rips the page out of her book and balls it up. Then, she tosses it into the dumpster to rot with the trash where it belongs.

Not good enough. She thinks.

She taps her cigarette on the side of the table and tries to think about the boy again, the t-shirt. Pink Floyd is one of her favorite bands. They seem to have that in common. That could be her inspiration. She tries again.

Another brick in the wall.

I place.

Bored out of my mind.

Trying to build something new.

She thinks she might like that one for a brief moment, but after reading it a couple more times she sighs and rips it out too.

She tries to look up at the sky, but the sunlight is obscuring it from view. She’s tried to write about the sky before. The way it looks at different times of day, throughout the year, at night. But none of those were good enough either.

If I could just find the perfect words that could resonate with other people the way they do with me. I just need one hit song to take off so I don't have to work this miserable job anymore.

She taps her cigarette again and then sits it in her mouth while she writes down another thought.

Stressed about the future

And about the past

I don't know how to stop

Take me out of this fucking coffee shop

She rolls her eyes. Scribbles out the lyrics until the pen ink bleeds through to the next page.

She puts the pen down and pulls out her phone. Two missed calls. Mom. Not even her ex-boyfriend? She rolls her eyes again at how desperate she must be for material if she’s really hoping that loser will call. She thinks it would be worth it if it could lead to her dreams coming true.

She slips her phone back in her pocket, annoyed at the lack of inspiration. She dabs her stubborn cigarette on the little tray over and over until all of its light finally dies.

Fuck, that's kinda good. She re-opens her notebook and jots that down.

"Alright." She says to herself. "Let's do this."

She takes her things back to her locker and throws her apron back on. The second she re-emerges through the curtains she sees the line is much longer than before.

"Thank god, you're back." Jeffra says. "Can you take orders?"

"Of course!" She says, enthusiastically.

She walks up to the counter, broadcasting the widest smile she can form.

"Hi. What can I get for you?"

"No, we don't have cinnamon flavoring anymore. So sorry about that."

"Yeah, I know. They discontinued it."

"You'll take it plain instead? Perfect!"

She finishes taking orders and then helps the other girls finish making them.

She looks up just as the cute boy in the Pink Floyd shirt walks by the counter in front of her, tossing his plastic cup in the trash can on his way out.

Not even a second glance at her.

She thinks maybe she could use that.

She looks at the clock and realizes her locker will be keeping her notebook prisoner for another two hours.

Her eye contact with the clock is interrupted by a woman's voice.

“Hi, so I said I wanted cinnamon, but this doesn’t taste like cinnamon at all.” She recognizes the woman she met about 8 minutes ago, give or take.

"I’m so sorry, ma’am. We’re actually out of cinnamon flavoring.”

“Well, it’d be nice if somebody would’ve told me that when I ordered. I don’t like this. It has no flavor.”

She felt like her lit cigarette, her insides on fire, but her face was sincere and apologetic.

She offered to remake the woman’s coffee, any flavor she’d like, and after much deliberation, while her grandchildren waited impatiently, they finally settled on a vanilla latte.

It was nearing closing time, so things were starting to slow down. There wasn’t much to do but wipe the counters down again, so she grabbed the rag and spray bottle and kept up her busy work. Only 45 more minutes.

Just as she was about to fall asleep in the middle of scrubbing, she heard Jeffra emerge from the back and shout “Hey, you can go ahead and go if you want.”

She jumped at the chance, spinning around to tell her she’d take her up on that offer, but then she realized that Jeffra was asking Mel.

Mel didn’t waste a second. She disappeared into the back without a word and was out the front door in a minute flat. “Bye, ya'll.” and nothing more.

When nine finally rolled around it was time to go and she was excited to get home and do some more writing before bed. She still has a million thoughts racing through her head that she doesn't want to lose.

The cold night air grazed her cheek as soon as she stepped out the front door. It felt good. That gave her an idea.

So she sat down on the bus bench, pulled out her notebook and started scribbling.