Just casually talking to my friend in the café as we're in line to order and just talking about how you listen to so much crap from people sometimes, like their drama and whatever.
"Then there's those friends, whose shit you'll always listen to without getting fed up. That's friendship." Says I.
Okay okay okay okay okay okay
So here’s a little something I’ve been working on… (Not that littles– 2847 words – like shit that’s a lot of words right?!)
Anyway get on with it girl…
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She was stood in what appeared to be a random position of the café, stuck in the heap of squashed tables with barely enough room to squeeze past without knocking something off. Luckily for her there wasn’t all that much on the tables considering it was 3am, generally speaking not a lot of people were up and about at this time. It was the quiet before the storm, she knew that. About 2 hours previously the shop had been filled to the brim with all sorts, people who passed by and fancied a coffee, those that couldn’t sleep, those who were simply trying to sober up after a night out. She knew that in about 2 hours the café would become full once again with people on their way to work, or even those on the way home from work.
Although her spot would appear to be random to a stranger, it was in fact very well thought out. It was her favourite spot in the café. The lighting was bright enough to allow easy reading but was soft enough to fuzz the edges of a page and provide a warm glow from any book you read. The lighting softened the harsh reality of the outside world and comforted her. She loved that fact that if you stood on your left tip toe and stretched your arms out you could just brush your fingertips against the book shelf on the wall, each spine shivering in appreciation.
For there was nothing she loved more, than the quiet hours of the early morning in the café; when it was completely empty and she could simply sit and lose herself in another’s world. There was a magic to it, the way a few letters became a word, a few words became a sentence, and if you arranged them nicely they conjured an entire universe in her head, that no one else could see. She revelled at the intimacy of a good book. She admired the way a book could treat her better than any human every could, as though the book knew she needed help, it knew she couldn’t sleep and was enveloping her into a loving embrace. Even during her hardest times, she when she couldn’t find her peace of mind she would pick up the nearest book and lap up the comfort provided by the worn pages.
She hummed softly to herself as she traced along the edges of the books, occasionally tugging one out of place and shelving it elsewhere. Her pattering fingers came to rest on a fresh spine, unwrinkled, and pity washed over her. A book that had never been read before. She caressed the spine gently before pulling it away from the others and hoisted herself onto one of the tables behind her. She fanned her hand over the front cover of the book before curling her fingers around the edge of the cover to peel it open. A soft echo escaped out her lips as she took in the well-worn pages, crinkled around each edge. This was not an unloved book, as she had previously suspected, instead it was a book so well loved that it had required a new coat.
“Well aren’t you gorgeous…” she murmured turning the leaves delicately. They made a satisfying rustle as they turned, greeting her as an old friend. A small smile began to lift the corners of her mouth as she absorbed the words laid out in front of her.
It had been half an hour since she had stumbled onto this book, but already it felt less like a book, and more like a confidant. She continued to leaf through the pages, cautious not to injure her new-found friendship. She couldn’t stand the squeal off a page that had been ripped, she had no sympathy for anyone that could destroy such an individual object. For no book was the same, they each spun a fresh web of thoughts and feelings, shared new experiences and smells. There was nothing a good book couldn’t do. Book abusers were no better than human abusers.
It was approximately 3 lines later that she spotted a particular piece of dialogue that caused a giggle to grow in the back of her throat. It was suggested that in order to improve your posture you should balance something you cared about on your head. In this particular instance, the character had chosen a hamster. She glanced at the clock above the bookshelf before shrugging one shoulder.
“Worth a shot” she thought, everyone was always telling her to stand taller, to look more confident in herself. She scanned the room for an object to balance, something she cared about. Her eyes skimmed over the book but did not settle, this was something she cared about far too much to allow it to fall to floor and risk damage. She couldn’t bear the thought of someone’s words thrown to the floor in tatters, she couldn’t risk the characters getting injured inside. Her eyes caught on a teacup by the countertop. A dimple appeared in the centre of her cheek as though encouraging her. She worked her way through the maze of tables and chairs quickly, steadying those that she bumped into.
She reached the teacup and span it over her fingers slowly, debating the logicalness of this situation. She definitely cared about the teacup, not in a maternal way but in a sense that if she broke it, the boss would definitely make her pay for it. A frown crept stealthily across her features as she contemplated her options, she could attempt to balance the cup the correct way up but it seemed incredibly unlikely she would be able to maintain it, her other option was to balance it upside down with the rim on her head, however that seemed like cheating to her, for surely the domed surface would become stuck on her head?
An idea struck her, lighting her features once more into a grin as she leaned over the counter top, on her tiptoes, fingertips outside stretched as she groped for the edge of a saucer. She squeezed in a tight breath and pushed her body further over the counter in order to grasp the saucer firmly, to ensure it wouldn’t break on the journey over the counter. There was no way she was paying for two saucers instead of one. She set the saucer down next to the teacup and headed back over to collect the book from the table.
“So.. I guess I’ll just try this then?” she muttered to herself, sliding the teacup onto the saucer and resting them on the top of her head. She lifted her gaze skyward and could just make out the edge of the saucer hovering precariously over her forehead. A nervous laugh tittered from her mouth as she took in the ridiculousness of the matter.
She glanced over at the door to check there were no potential customers before her eyes drifted back down to the book, she could only see the tips of the aged pages and so had to raise her arms higher to continue reading. Seeing as though she had got the cup up there, it may as well stay there while she did something she truly loved, reading. It was a win win situation in her opinion.
What she had forgotten to factor in was how easily she lost herself in stories, which is why half an hour later she found herself engrossed in the novel once again.
“Hello?” a bemused voice called out from somewhere near the entry way.
Startled, she tried to turn around, and the teetering cup toppled off the saucer and onto the floor, promptly splitting into 3 pieces, much like her pay check would be later. She winced at the crash and began to lean forward to retrieve the dustpan and brush kept behind the counter.
“I wouldn’t-“the voice began, but it was too late, the saucer slipped off her head creating a clatter. “Oh.”
She sighed and crouched down to pick up the remaining pieces lying on the floor, knocking the book down next to her in the process. She flicked through the pages and quickly scrawled a note next to the passage with the pencil in her apron pocket before pushing the book back onto the table with some of the scattered pieces of teacup and saucer.
“Just a sec” She called out vaguely over her shoulder, scooping up the last pieces of shattered china and placing it on the table with the rest. Brushing her hands down her trousers she turned around to confront the mystery human.
A blush sprinted across her cheeks flooding her in pink. “Hi” she murmured at him, smiling awkwardly. A quick glance showed him to be around 20, fairly tall with playful copper eyes.
“Have you cut yourself?” His eyes scanned over her face and arms leaving burning trails wherever they roamed.
She bought a hand up and rubbed gently over her cheeks and chin. “No, I think I’m good” she relied cheerfully, flashing a white smile across at him as she walked round to the serving side of the counter. “What can I get you?”
“Um… A coffee and …” He eyed the cakes set along the front of the counter, “Which would you recommend?”
“I really like the lemon tart… but I’m a sucker for all things sour” she commented, gesturing towards a biscuit pastry with a vibrant yellow centre.
He nodded at her, “and a lemon tart then.” She leaned down to swipe a tart and slide it into a bag as his eyes surveyed the building.
It was a quaint café, enough business to make a living, but sweet enough to remain local. The pastel yellow walls added to the sunny atmosphere, which when mixed with the lighting style created a warmth to the place. Tables were scattered haphazardly through the place with mismatched chairs dotted around them. Nothing in the place seemed to match, but somehow the overall look came together in a unique fashion to form a home away from home.
She peeked up at his face, engrossed in his thoughts, before turning her attention to the coffee machine behind her. Setting it to boil she glanced behind her once again, he was still staring intently around the café so she went off in search of a mug for the coffee.
She couldn’t for the life of her remember when the dishwasher had been put on so she decided it was safer to wash one of the mugs on the side instead of open it up and risk flooding the place. She began humming to herself while the taps poured piping hot water into the sink, absentmindedly swirling a finger around causing the soap to fuzz into fragile bubbles resting delicately on the surface of the water.
She was thinking about the stranger out front, he didn’t seem like a stranger at all, in fact she was almost positive she knew him. It was on the edge of her mind, every time she thought she got close to figuring it out the thought ran away from her like a cat escaping bath time.
“I think you’ve got enough water there” The voice pulled her out of her thoughts and her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. Soap suds were overflowing from the basin, sluggishly making a break for freedom down the front of the cupboard and onto the floor.
A chain of flustered almost curses ran out of her mouth “Fu- Ah shi- I mean um, cra- no dammit!” How had she not realised she was now standing in a puddle?
Grabbing a tea towel off the side she squatted down and attempted to mop up the mess. Thoughts flying through her mind too fast to grasp but one remained with her continuously. What the hell was wrong with her. Shaking her head at her own stupidity she rocked onto her heels and stared down at the mess on the floor.
“Not to pressure you or anything but, I kinda want my coffee?” The voice rang out from behind her, causing the tips of her ears to flush red in anger. Where did he get off having the audacity to sass her, she understood that it had been a rocky start but abit of patience would be appreciated. She whipped round and opened her mouth to fire back a response but quickly stopped when she noticed the tilted smirk fixed firmly on his face.
“Is a takeaway cup okay?” She asked with a sheepish smile. “I mean, the things almost boiled and clearly I’m not the best at washing up.”
“Take-away’s fine” He chuckled, eyes flitting to the sodden floor behind her.
She grabbed a cup off the corner of the counter and turned back to the coffee machine, lifting the jug out of its place and beginning to pour the scalding liquid into the cup.
“So, why’d you have a teacup on your head?” She jumped, knocking the jug slightly causing the fluid to slide of the edge onto her fingers. She inhaled sharply putting both the jug and cup down swiftly and proceeding to blow gently on her finger.
She heard him laugh softly to himself and sent a scowl in his direction. “The book”
“the book told you too?” He looked at her like she was crazy as she passed the bag containing over to him.
A giggle swelled in the back of her throat as she took in his comical expression. “No, well sort of.. it said it was good for posture so, I thought why not?” she replied wiping down the counter to remove the spilt coffee before reaching for the cup sat on the side.
He scanned her face to check if she was being serious, her fingers reaching anxiously into her apron pocket as though looking for something. With a triumphant smile, she whipped a marker out and poised it over the side of the cup. “Name?”
“Shawn.” He watched her scrawl his name along the side of the cup before handing it to him. He noticed how her eyes popped at the mention his name, and the light flush crawl along her cheeks.
“Ni-nice to meet you Shawn.” It had finally clicked, this was Shawn Mendes. THE Shawn Mendes. She put it down to her sleep deprived brain that she hadn’t noticed before, he was her favourite singer, she had even been to one of his concerts.
He wandered off to take a seat, while she went into the back to finish mopping up the water. Obviously, he sat at the table with the book, eyeing it every so often while he sipped his coffee. Eventually his curiosity got the better of him and his itching fingers turned the pages, revealing the world inside. He reached the page with her message scrawled along the inside margin, ‘Teacups are just as hard to balance as hamsters’, and an idea formed in his head. His eyes swept across the room in search of a writing tool, before coming to rest on a pencil, sat on the bookshelf. Casually checking she was still out back he grabbed the pencil and scribbled down a reply.
He scraped his chair back and stood, throwing his cup and empty bag into the bin. Clearing his throat, “Right I’m off now, don’t break anymore teacups.”
She turned to face him, poking her tongue out her mouth cheekily. “Bye Shawn” She cooed rolling her eyes at him. He smirked in response, pulling the door open and stepping into the fresh morning air.
She waited three seconds before squealing excitedly and leaping up. “I just met Shawn Mendes!” She choked out between squeals. She didn’t notice him come back inside. She certainly didn’t notice cross the room to fetch his forgotten jacket.
A smug smile spread over his face as he swung his jacket over his shoulders and crossed back through to leave the coffee shop, calling out “Yes, yes you did” and laughing as he closed the door behind him. She groaned loudly in response, great, not only had she broken a teacup, overflowed a sink, and burnt herself, now she had just fangirled over her favourite singer, right in front of him.
From then onwards, the café began to fill with people popping in and out to get their morning fix of coffee. It wasn’t until the end of the shift that she was finally reunited with her new book. She served her last customer, hanging up her apron and replacing it with her coat and bag. She scooped the book into her arms on the way out and cradled it gently the entire way home. Dropping her bag at the door she crossed to the window of her apartment and opened the leaves of the book once again.
“But not as hard as saucers”
A smile plastered itself onto her face, as she looked out the window, imagining the man behind the cursive writing.
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