We rolled out of the car, eyes ablaze as we realized, we had finally escaped our lives…
I suppose that’s not where I should start. It all began (more of less) last summer, though I guess that doesn’t help you much, but to be honest I don’t remember the year anymore. I was working at a ridiculous local cyber cafe, where either A) snooty, rude business people or B) teen-aged people occupied, I’m still not sure what was worse. Regardless of the type of person that came in, I gladly smiled, served them their coffee, and went back to my mostly-miserable life, which consisted of living with my parents, chain smoking (both cigarettes and weed), and spending time with the few people I considered “friends.” That is, until one summer day when everything seemed to change, simply becoming different I would have to say.
It was particularly hot, even for the summer, and that always impacted business. My already irritable manager seemed more hostile than usual, as sweat shone on his forehead, and moistened his dress shirt. This cafe I was working at was an old building, “renovated” once the new owner turned it into the cafe it now was, with an awful air conditioning system that rarely worked. Our little cafe was slow, and I vividly remember there being only four people in the dining room, all in suits, hitting their computer keyboards as if they were mad, sweat beading on their brows.
Suddenly a girl came in, and before you think, “oh no, it’s another unexpected romance,” let me tell you, you’re at least partially wrong, keyword being partially. Getting back to my story though, it was strange, mostly because there were windows facing the front of the cafe where it was easy to witness everyone coming and going. She, just appeared at the register, and to this day I still don’t really think she came in the door, rather aparated, just feet in front of me. No bell, nothing to alert me of her presence, I turned around, and there she was at my register.
She wasn’t a particularly beautiful girl, by any means, but she did have a strange luster about her. Heat had gotten to me, I believe, because I was accidentally sizing her up, with no attempt to hide my doing so. Before I realized what I was doing, I caught myself blatantly staring at her chest, which unlike her face was beautiful. Upon looking up I hoped she hadn’t realized my captivation with her breasts, but she obviously did, as the very first words she said to me were: “Are you done staring at my tits, you perv?” I was still so caught off guard I couldn’t ever gather a response, which obviously annoyed her even more. “Are you going to take my order, or do I need to get someone more competent over here to do so?” Strangest part about this encounter was that she barely seemed mad that I was admiring her breasts, but more mad that I wasn’t ready to take her order.
Still stunned, and a little embarrassed I could only muster a nod. She rambled on some order, which I can’t remember, and I went about making whatever overpriced coffee drink she ordered. It was strange, but she was different than everyone else who had ever come into the cafe. As she sat drinking her coffee, she wasn’t pecking away at a keyboard, talking on a cellular phone, or doing anything for that matter. Simply put, she sat, “enjoying” a “well-prepared” designer coffee. Awkwardly she caught me staring at her a few other times throughout her stay, but again, that’s besides the point.
Eventually, she began to leave, while I was checking the trash nearest the door, and I felt the need to offer some sort of apology. “Listen, about the whole…”
“It’s okay,” she cut me off in a very non-rude manor. “Why don’t you just make it up to me,” she said without breaking her stride.
“But…wait…How can I do that, I don’t have your number?”
“I don’t have a phone,” still walking.
“How can I make it up to you then? I don’t even know you!”
For a moment she stopped, we were now in the parking lot but ten feet from each other. “I guess you’ll figure it out, won’t you. You seem smart…”
And that’s what she left me with, “You seem smart…” That was the last time I ever saw, or spoke to that girl, well, until (hopefully) the beginning of this story, which is coincidentally the ending. As I said though, this isn’t entirely a love story, it’s more than that, as everything that follows is well worth the story. All stories have a beginning though, and that is how this story began…
It’s always nice to know who you are in this world.
“The most powerful weapon is the human soul on fire.” — Fredrich Nietzsche
I need you so much closer
“To strive, To seek, To find, and not to yield.” — Ben Tyler
We’re all on borrowed time
“That which we are, we are.” — Alfred Tennyson (Ulysses)
And it’s not that I have much to say, it’s just that I’m never particularly sure how to say what I need to get off my chest. Particularly, I seem to have this problem when everything in life is going well. I can only write in misery, when I’m dealt hands of turmoil and trouble. Writing in misery seems to be drastically easier than writing when content, for instance, when malcontent writing is similar to venting. Fingers hit keys effortlessly, portraying just what it is I’m dissatisfied with (often in an abstract, and vague manors), so that I may maintain my pride, venting to faceless strangers. Contrastingly when satisfied with the life I’m leading I am, in short, out living a daily existence which I do not despise, rather than discussing it. However, I miss stroking these keys, almost sensually, to the point I wish something would bring me down. Seems I should always avoid sobriety, so that I may be “happy.”
That is all…
“You never know what life is like, until you have lived it.” — Marilyn Monroe
“Staying alive is complicated. It’s the single most difficult thing every single person does every single day.” — Chuck Klosterman (IV)