Alone in a Crowd

Autumn walked along the crowded street, another clog in the behemoth machine of Chicago. During the evening rush hour, there were so many people that some had stepped from the curb to continue along the edge of the busy street. 

Yet, not one person looked at her. There were no distracted smiles or meaningless conversations as they waited at the crosswalks. They didn’t even jostle her as they moved past. Everyone seemed to glide around her. 

She began to worry she was fading, becoming a ghost. Sometimes the impulse to grab someone and ask if they saw her was fierce. The only thing holding her back was the irrational fear her hand would slide through them, proving her theory. 

Her gaze climbed the black reflective surface of the Willis Tower, the building she’d just left. There was no denying, she loved her job, but the city was sucking her very soul. 

Funny, considering since a teenager, she’d wanted to leave her tiny hometown in Michigan. Break free from the chains of small-town life, where everyone knew everyone’s business and had nothing better to do than gossip about it.

Now she had her high-power job and was “living-it-up”…all alone in a city with over a million people.

Rounding the busy corner, a perk of her new life came into view; the many coffee houses. The Comfort Cup was just one of three along this street, but they had the best java she’d ever tasted. 

Plus, the older woman who worked behind the counter most evenings always made eye contact and asked about Autumn’s day. There she got a fantastic coffee and was also corporeal. Win-win. 

Pulling opened the door, she inhaled deeply, letting the scent of roasting beans and quiet conversation wrap around her. After waiting a few minutes in line, she ordered a soy latte and told her usual evening lie, saying to the cashier that life was great. 

Blowing on her steaming drink, she idly wondered if everyone living in big cities told that story at one point or another, or if it was her isolated, lonely fib. 

Taking her favorite spot in the corner of the café, she snuggled into the comfy armchair next to a large window and pulled her current book from her messenger bag. Tucking a foot under her, she grabbed her drink and settled into her favorite part of the day, the hour of reading before heading home to her empty apartment on another busy street. 

She fell into the story, letting her worries and melancholy slip away as the characters became more real than the world bustling around her. That was, until the sensation of someone’s eyes on her pulled her back to reality. 

Her gaze scanned the cozy coffeehouse, only to fall on a man at the nearest table to her. He was watching her intently. Well, he was studying either her book cover or her boobs.

Great, the only one who notices me is city creepers. 

She shuttered, remembering the asshole on the ‘L.’ The one she’d threatened to mace if he didn’t remove his hand from her thigh.

As she debated pulling out her mace, maybe setting it on the side table by her bag as a warning, the guy looked at her face. 

He gave a quick shake of his head, holding up both hands. “Sorry. I swear I was trying to figure out what book you were reading. I have this compulsion to know if it is one I read.

She doubted it. What was the statistic of men reading romance? Something like ten percent. Still, she lifted the book so he could see the cover. 

His eyes lit up. “I’ve read it. It was interesting.” 

Yeah-right. Was he trying to impress her, or was he making fun? If it was the latter, and he was one of those people who scoff at romance, well, he can piss off. 

He grinned. “I take it you don’t believe me.”

“No. Not really,” she replied, unable to not returned his smile. 

“Seriously, I’ll read anything with a character-driven story.”

That was definitely romances, but she was still skeptical, and said, “Okay, I’ll play. What are the main character’s names?”

He told her. Hell, he had read the story. 

Color her impressed. 

“What makes you pick up a romance, instead of say, a thriller or horror story. Many of those are also character-centered.”

“Oh, I read those too. And honestly, I read mysteries the most. However,” he pointed with his coffee cup to the chair next to her, “do you mind if I move next to you?”

She nodded, indicating it was fine. 

When seated in the other armchair, they exchanged names. He told her he was Adam before continuing.

“Like I said, people fascinate me, and occasionally I need a story where I know everything will work out. Horrors or thrillers can be damn dark.” He shrugged, "Sometimes, I need a happy ending.” 

She couldn’t help it, her mind went to the gutter, and a snort of laughter escaped her. “I bet.” 

His cheeks flushed, barely visible under his light scruff, drawing attention to his appealing smile. Her gaze moved to his playful eyes. He was very handsome. 

“In a book,” he clarified, chuckling.  

"Sorry. Watch what you say around a romance reader.”

“So true.” He took a sip of his coffee before setting it on the table. “Anyway, some of my guy friends give me shit about it, but whatever.” 

His subtle, relaxed body language told her he really didn’t care what others thought of him or his hobbies.

That was an admirable quality. Adam was confident to do what he pleases without regard to society’s pressures. She liked that, and him. 

He leaned in her direction, resting on an elbow. “Listen, last week, I had to call the cops on my neighbors. They were beating the crap out of each other. Again. And none of it was S&M fun, like that club they visited in chapter five of the story you’re reading.”

Now it was her turn to blush. Having him inside her book felt intimate, but in a nice, albeit, slightly weird way. 

It also made her wonder if that was the other reason he read the book. Was one of his kinks written between the pages of this story? 

Clearing her throat, trying to dispel her wayward thoughts, she returned to their original topic. “I get it. That’s the same reason I read romances,” she said.  

He cocked a brow. “For the steamy chapters?” 

“No,” she gasped, breaking eye-contact. 

Her reaction was probably a dead giveaway that she was lying.  Honestly, those bits were fun to read. However, she wasn’t about to admit it. He might be a stranger turning into a friend, but some things aren’t shared the first time talking with another person. 

“I’d meant I also need the hope and happiness provided in romances. Sometimes humanity sucks. People can be soul-crushing.” She thought back to the horrible incident that had loneliness and sadness hanging on her like an old, moth-eaten wool winter coat. She decided to tell him in hopes it would lighten the burden.  “Yesterday, a homeless man by my apartment, a guy I always gave my spare change to, was found in the alley. Died. Stabbed.  And he’d been there a while.”

“Damn,” Adam muttered. 

“He was ignored in life and in death.” She shook her head, her heart hurting for the poor man. He probably didn’t have much hope and happiness throughout his life.

“It amazes me how there can be so many people here, in this city, yet we don’t see each other,” Adam said, mirroring her earlier thoughts.

“Maybe it is sensory overload,” she suggested. “We see so many people we actually stop seeing each other. We all become background noise.” 

“You might be right,” he agreed.

Although, talking with Adam was akin to a sweet symphony. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, sipping on their coffee.

He broke it a few minutes later, saying, “On a less depressing note, what chapter are you on?” 

“Sixteen.”

“Oh, nice. They are at the cabin.” He waggled his eyebrows. “The next chapter is, um, interesting.”

That had her attention. She tried not to read once leaving the coffee house, but she suspected she’d be up late finishing off the next few chapters.  

“Is this you reading nook?” Adam asked, dragging her attention back to him.

“Yes. How did you know?”

 “I’ve seen you here before.” He tapped her book with an index finger. “This is just the first time you caught me ogling your… books.” 

She shoved his shoulder playfully, enjoying his warmth beneath her hand. "Now you’re doing it on purpose.”

“Doing what?” He widened his eyes, obviously trying to play off the innocent act, but his wicked smiled gave him away.

Ignoring is teasing innuendo, she answered his original question. “Yes, this is my reading spot. I like to stop here on my way home from work.” 

She left out that going to her empty apartment depressed her. Moving away from her hometown had taught her she wasn’t good at making friends. 

No one would be stopping by or calling. Hell, her landlord wouldn’t even let her get a cat. All that waited for her was a simple dinner and solitude. 

At least here she was around people.

The thought of her high-rise home made her glance at her watch, and she couldn’t believe how much time had passed talking with this friendly, attractive stranger.

She didn’t want to leave. It had been so long since she had a fun conversation face to face with a person that didn’t revolve around work.

Talking with him shook off her loneliness, but that wasn’t all or even the most important thing. No, it was that he made her feel like they were the only two people in this busy city. 

Still, it was time to go. Her alarm for work would be ringing a new day much too soon. 

After taking the last sip of her latte, she said, “It was wonderful talking to you, but I need to get home.”

Adam looked outside. She followed his gaze. The buildings were cast in heavy shadows as the sun had nearly set. 

"Yeah, I should go.” He sounded as disappointed as she felt, and found it lifted her spirits. 

As they stood and made their way to the exit, Autumn debated asking for his number. However, she worried about coming off as too forward, or worse, desperate.

To her immense relief, he solved the problem, saying, “We both love coming here in the evening, what do you say we start a two-person book club? You finish that story, and I pick our next book. No genre is out.” 

“That sounds like fun.” A giddiness filled her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Unless working late, I almost always stop by here before going home.”

He squinted into the crowd, but seemed to be thinking, not looking, then said, “I’m nearly positive I have a late meeting scheduled tomorrow, but I’ll make sure nothing is planned on Friday evening.”

“Great! Bring your book ideas with you.”

He winked, “It’s a date.”

“Can’t wait.” She turned, heading toward her apartment, willing herself not to skip along the crowded sidewalk. 

Autumn felt light, nearly floating on happiness and anticipation, yet was more grounded than she had since moving to Chicago. Someone saw her. 

If she didn’t show up on Friday, Adam would miss her, wondering about her. She was no longer an unimportant number amongst millions but counted on by someone, and that one made all the difference.