The Barista

you looked out the window and not for the first time, thought about how wrong the weather forecast had been.

you found yourself falling into the warm embrace of your oversize black hoodie,not like you have never before.

it wasn't overcast when you woke up. But, as the afternoon kicked its way, the clouds grew darker. The clouds sat stubbornly up there, leaving no sign of the sun. The overcast brought the desire for a cup of warm coffee and a book in the coffee shop. Maybe even the barista.

The coffee shop was a place you frequently went to. After work, during cold days, during snacks time, weekends. Even the barista knew what you will be ordering. He flirted with you in your every visit, not like you never cherished his presence.

You put on your shoes, already carrying your purse and maybe even "accidentally" forgetting your umbrella. A smile crept up, unknowingly.

How beautiful was it, amidst the cold breeze,your hair did artistic swirls and twirls. The grey clouds carpeted the sky. Just tiny rays of light made their way to the city through the clouds. The sidewalk was deserted. Just few shops open and not many people hurriedly walking inside. The cold breeze swept up and hit your face as you walked to the coffee shop.

You pushed open the door. The shop was always very cozy. The counter sat on the left corner from where all the tables were visible. Your favorite table sat abandoned, waiting to be occupied on the right corner. The smell of coffee and a hint of chocolate flooded in the shop. DIY decorations were put on the wall with pictures of pastries that could get your mouth watering. Polaroids were pasted on the wall, counter and shelves using washi tape. Fairy lights ran their way over the polaroids, making them visible. The shop had a huge amount of brown with colorful decorations.

"Something to make the day better"

The barista said to the costumer, loud enough for you to hear. His sentence sounded more like a statement than a question. A playful wink accompanied the statement. Your cheeks grew warmer and a smile took over your lips. The barista never failed to get you all flustered and shy.

He was tall with sharp and well defined jawline. His shoulders looked broad in his white shirt. His black hair looked soft. He always wore earrings that complimented his hair and outfit. His lips were coated with his cheery lip balm. His smile depicted youthfulness. He could capture attention easily. He was the type of boy your mother told to stay away from. His doe eyes never left its sparkle and you were sure they hid so much just like yours.

You sat at your regular place. Two huge bookshelves stood tall to your right. You took out the book you always read, "Broken" by Shy Keenan. By now you were sure you had all sentences and chapters memorized. Yet, you went right back into the words of the book. Maybe because a part of you related to it. 

The coffee shop was your refuge. It was the only place no one tried to cover you or tried to dominate you. It was just the book, coffee and you doing some artsy stuffs. It was just you being you with you.

"Well, things last longer in a picture", he said as he finished placing your regular order. Milk coffee, carrot cake, cookies and a bowl of melted chocolate. You had been staring at him as he worked. Dark shade of red crept over your cheeks. You looked around unable to hold eye contact with him. It was raining outside. The shop was unusually quiet with no costumers. His gaze followed yours and crashed with the rain.

"Guess you are stuck with me", he said.

You exchanged few words with him, here and there. He didn't seem to be that bad. He noticed small things about you, how you scrunch your nose when you speak, how you pull your sleeves to the tip of your fingers. He would pull up puns and jokes. He shared stories of various costumers he had encountered even the rich girl who hits on him and that forgetful uncle. 

The rain came to a halt. The pitter-patter stopped bringing a burst of people on the street. He placed your drawing book you had left in your previous visit on the table before walking off to attend new costumers. A letter was pasted on the cover page. It said:

hello, artsy costumer

you left your drawing book in your previous visit. but this handsome barista has kept it safe for you. went through your drawings they tell "stories" don't know whether those stories they tell are yours but you can always reach out to me doesn't matter if its 3 in the morning you can always reach me i am stronger than the "demons" and better than loneliness will stay with you while you fight for yourself and after that as well...........we in it together!! fighting!!

your handsome barista

The letter wasn't like the meaningless words that were thrown around in the name of sympathy. It held sincerity. The words gave you a place to land on when everything went bad. You bounced between the feeling of euphoria and home. There is a strange comfort that lingered around you. A strange feeling engulfed you that you never had before. Maybe it was the best mixture of comfort, relaxation and love. A sudden urge to tell him that.............that you were just an alter of an abused girl grew a lump in you.

You still remember when she first heard you. She was standing on the bridge in her pale blue dress with scars scattered all over her body when she first heard you. She was scared and surprised. Time has brought her closer to you or perhaps its the urge to feel home and loved that had brought her closer to you, after all it was your drawings and poems that gave her hope just a little bit. Despite the closeness she still hid you within her. You were trapped in a body that didn't belong to you. A strong feeling of imprisonment clung onto you, you were put into a box you couldn't escape from.

All these years of homesickness, today you were surrounded with a strange feeling. Maybe you are home after all. The lump in your throat grew harder to be shoved down to your stomach. You watched him serve other costumers. Maybe telling him won't be bad. He introduced you the feeling he won't take it right? Or maybe you are not home, you just feel happy. You sat there folding the letter, drowning in a pool of thoughts.

"Umm......hey!! Coffee tomorrow?"

You couldn't deny the feeling of love and security.

"A coffee date? than stargazing?"