Mochas and Mailrooms
I almost never drink coffee, and I rarely do homework outside of the comfort of my own dorm; but here I am, sitting in the busiest building on campus, doing homework, and drinking coffee. Most of the thoughts in my head right now aren’t productive: I have limited time to finish this assignment, start my next one, and get home before the jitters kick in, but all I can focus on is how crowded this place is right now. Everyone is buzzing around in their own little worlds, living lives that I have no knowledge of. It’s fun to observe, I like watching, but putting my thoughts into words has never been my strongest skill. But here we go… quickly, before the coffee shakes make it impossible to type.
There are people sitting all around me tapping away at their computers, writing in notebooks, scrolling on their phones, but right in front of me is a girl just sipping her drink and observing. Her eyes wander around the space so gracefully, she’s in no rush. I want to be inside of her head at this moment, to watch the world from her eyes like a movie and to listen to her thoughts like a melody. She’s been here since before I sat down and I’m interested to see who leaves first. Probably me if we’re being honest, as I feel the coffee settling into my bloodstream already.
There’s a mailroom right next to this Starbucks, and I thought the back-to-school rush would be over by now, but it most certainly is not because this line has got to be over 30 people long and it hasn’t moved in over 10 minutes. The people just joining the back of the line are complaining about how long it is, the people in the middle are complaining about how long they’ve been there and “we’ve gotta get to class!”. I wish I could see the people at the front of the line. How long have they been waiting? Are they more pissed that they’ve wasted so much time or glad for it to be almost over. I wonder what they’re picking up. Textbooks? Room decor? Items they left at home that their parents sent? Care packages? A guy just walked past me wheeling a massive move-in cart full of packages he had just picked up, maybe that’s why the line hasn’t moved. He got a few dirty looks, especially from the people in the middle of the line. Now that I think about it, I have a package to pick up, but there’s absolutely no way I’m standing in that line.
Alas, I am leaving before my mysterious girl. She’s finished her drink, but she has remained seated, still watching anything and everything. I wish her the best, unlike that guy with all the packages, I hope he doesn’t have an elevator in his dorm.
Who: A stressed student
Where: Slane Starbucks
When: A gray Tuesday afternoon
What I’m drinking: Iced mocha
