Diner Girl

The sound of the bell ringing as I entered the diner was nothing compared to the sound of costumers chatting with each other and the waiters yelling at the cooks to rush with the orders made, but the only familiar sound I couldn't hear was of her laughter.

I scanned the room with my eyes, trying to find any hint of her presence. I saw a woman with the same hair color, but it wasn't her. Her hair was darker, and she had curls that perfectly framed her face and bounced as she walked. I heard a laugh from the girl sitting in the booth with a boy, who I assumed was her boyfriend, but she wasn't her. The one I was looking for had this deep shade of green, the kind you'd only find in a precious stone.

I found myself checking each booth. She wasn't there. How couldn't she be there? I always saw her here. Every morning, she's sit in whichever booth was available and have her breakfast. Sometimes she'd order pancakes and would drown them in maple syrup. Other times, she would just order a coffee and some eggs.

I never talked to her. It's not like I meant to pay attention to her, but seeing someone as strikingly beautiful every day had to mess with any sane person's head. As it did with mine.

Turns out, I wasn't as subtle as I thought, because she once smiled at me. Just a smile, but it was enough to make me forget how to breathe for a second. She had these rosy button-shaped lips and a gap between her front teeth, and her smile just made her whole face light up. I wanted to introduce myself, or just say hi at least, but I just waved at her. She chuckled, and even with all the noise, I could still capture that sweet sound in my brain, like a good song that keeps replaying in your head.

Every day for the rest of that week, we kept repeating that ritual. Smiles and waves. I was perfectly content with just being acknowledged by Diner Girl, but I was still trying to build up the courage to exchange a few words.

Last night, I came here. Not to see her or to eat, I just needed to study for my finals. Fortunately for me, not my grades, she was there. She was holding a copy from Catcher In The Rye and her curls were caught up in a ponytail.

I don't know what possessed me in that moment, but I walked towards her table and asked if I could sit, which she said yes. I finally got to learn her name. Clara. It fit her.

After I told her mine, we skipped the small talk and got to know each other on a deeper level. I learned that she loved reading, especially romance novels. That she moved recently into the city to pursue her dream of becoming a journalist. That she kept a journal where she kept all of her thoughts, dreams and ambitions. That her favorite color was green. That she preferred cats over dogs and hated rain, except when she was inside.

We talked for two hours until the owner of the diner kicked us out to close the place. I should've asked her for her phone number, but instead we made plans to meet the next day for breakfast.

I tapped my fingers against the table, as my leg shook under it, and the sound of the costumers talking loudly early in the morning wasn't helping with my overstimulation. I was there for an hour, and she wasn't there yet. My mind couldn't help itself but come up with the worst case scenarios. What if she ditched me? What if I scared her off last night? What if she got into an accident on the way over here?

After what seemed like an eternity, someone tapped on my shoulder. I snapped my head, waiting to see Clara, but I was met with disapointment.

The waiter told me if I wasn't going to order anything, I had to leave, so to shut him up, I ordered two cups of coffee. I knew Clara would probably want one.

I took a sip from the cup, as I kept my eyes glued to the door. I almost jumped out of the booth every time that little bell ring, but I was always met with disappointment when it turned out to be some random person.

After another hour and four cups of coffee - I drank the first two and ordered two more just in case - I was starting to lose hope. It was lunch time already, and the place was even more crowded. I stopped paying attention to the door and more to the couple in the booth next to mine. The wife was wearing mostly designer clothes and had her hair in a hairstyle similar to Audrey Hepburn. Clara's favorite actress. The husband was wearing a button-down collar and a green tie. Green. Clara's eyes.

Even when looking at other people, I always found some connection to Diner Girl. That's how intangled in my brain she was.

That was strange to me. I didn't love her. We only talked once. But while waiting for her, I could imagine myself loving her in the future. Not even as a lover or girlfriend. As a kindred spirit.

I stood up from where I was sitting, so I could pay for the four cups of coffee and scone I ordered to take home. I could always come back the next day. When I handed the waiter the dollar bill, the bell rang again, which is a sound I was starting to hate.

That's when I heard a sweet familiar voice calling out my name. I turned around, only to be met by those enchanting green eyes. She was wearing a cardigan and a pair of tights that macthed her black skirt that barely reached her knees. Her hair was braided and her smile was apologetic. She obviously had a long story to tell.

I smiled back. I couldn't wait to hear what story Diner Girl had to tell.