The Coffee Shop

The girl to my left is sitting on her laptop with her headphones in. Her face is stern, emotionless. I get the vibe that she does not want to be bothered. She has her backpack with her so I assume she is a student doing her homework. Maybe she is writing about me as I write about her. Maybe she is pretending to be studying but is actually daydreaming about how much she loves her boyfriend or her dog. I look around to the counter where a line has formed to order an overpriced cup of coffee. The man standing patiently orders a white chocolate mocha and when asked what size he said, “The big one!” and scoffed as if we were all supposed to know his exact order. Is it really that difficult to just say “venti” and decrease the chances of confusion? He seems like he is in a hurry, so maybe that is why he couldn’t look up two feet to glance up at the menu where he could find the proper name for “The big one”. He then gets a phone call and rushes to a secluded area, as if he is trying to hide a secret. No one cares to listen, except me of course.

“Next in line,” the barista says within a monotone. The tone is covered with a peppy smile and the man falls for her insincere smile. Her acting is quite good. She would be more successful as an actress than a barista, but I say nothing. I’ve learned that most opinions are best left unsaid, and I would not want to call her out. The next man in line walks up to the counter. He looks genuinely happy. Maybe he noticed the fake attitude of the barista but did not let it get to him. I get distracted by the loud music that is playing, so I miss some of their conversation. I hear him talking through his smile, telling a story about his daughter in Seattle. He talked to her on the phone today, and this has made him as happy as a little kid on Christmas morning. He says he has not talked to her in a long time and she had finally called him. The barista replies to his excitement with a “Wow!” which is the most insincere thing that has yet come from her mouth. His genuine happiness is being disregarded by this woman. Luckily the man is unfazed, as the smile is still spread across his face like a stretching cat. Good for him. He is happy, and he deserves to be.

Not long after the man exits, two people around 22 years old, male and female, walk up to the table beside me and sit down. This is rather odd because out of the ten open spots, they pick the one closest to me. Of course my natural human instinct tells me they are too close for comfort even though there is nearly six feet between us. If it was someone I knew, it would not have bothered me, but I am usually uneasy around strangers. The boy sits facing me. I observe him and the woman, and I look around and see the whole store, but when I look at him again, all he sees is the girl sitting across from him. I have never seen anyone so mesmerized by another human being. I then glance at her. She does not have the same look in her eyes. Maybe they are best friends and he is completely head-over-heels in love with everything about this girl. He is not confident enough to tell her which is a good thing in my opinion. The relationship could potentially get weird and even diminish if he tells her, and she does not feel the same way.

The student, the businessman, the excited father, and the friends have all been here for the past thirty minutes. I watch them come and go within this time, but I feel like I have known them for years. I can look at them and see part of their stories. I can infer the feelings they have and the things going on in their lives. Anyone that walks by me has a story that they are hiding deep in their hearts. Reading people makes them vulnerable without them even knowing. Who knows where they are now or if they will return tomorrow, but I do know that they are deeper than they appear. Everyone has a story, and it seems to be my calling to discover it.