The Bustling Butterfly Cafe
My face burned from the cold as I pushed open the doors to Butterfly Cafe. I walked briskly to the counter to get the raspberry truffle latte and apple cinnamon muffin that I’d ordered half an hour before. The steaming latte helped warm my icy hands, and I sat down at a table under the striped tent in the center of the room. Generally, I don’t like coffee, but I needed something hot to help me thaw out and make me more alert. I took a sip and gazed around the colorful room that so greatly contrasted the dreary January day outside the window.
A girl at the table directly opposite of me was scribbling notes into a spiral bound notebook. Her eyes flitted back and forth from the notebook and the screen of her laptop. Her red hair was pulled back in a long ponytail, but a few wisps of hair had escaped to frame her lovely face. There were faint freckles on her sharp nose and she wore no makeup except for a bright lip gloss.
Beside of her slouched a boy in a gray hoodie. His dark curls fell into his eyes, which were framed by wire rimmed glasses. He scrolled through his phone while munching on a piece of flatbread. Occasionally he would glance up from his phone at the girl and smile, and once he had finished his flatbread, he put his hand gently on her thigh. She didn’t acknowledge this other than with a brief smile, but the movements of her pen did seem less hurried and tense at his touch.
Fuck. I needed to look at someone else. The scene across from me was beginning to make me feel quite alone, and I also didn’t want to seem like I was staring. I diverted my eyes, but a cynical voice in my head whispered that they wouldn’t be together for another month, this hard working, ambitious girl and this… guy. It should’ve made me feel better about sitting there in that room alone. Better about being in this world alone. But the remark only reminded me of my last date, and the date before that, and how dissatisfied I always seem to be after, well, any date.
I took another sip of my latte, hot and sweet with a touch of bitterness in its aftertaste. Further away from me, in the corner of the room, sat a girl with dark curls tucked into a messy bun. Her brow was furrowed as she stared at the screen of her iPad. There were several sheets of paper spread on the table before her, and a little pencil bag with a leopard on it propped up next to her Yeti cup. She rested her flushed cheek on her hand, but only for a moment. Suddenly, her face lit up as the dots connected on her assignment, and she shot up in her seat. However, as she moved, her hand hit the Yeti, causing it to spill. The pastel pens in the pencil case went rolling across the table and the floor.
The joy that had been on her face not even a moment before instantly disappeared. She groaned and tears flooded her dark eyes. A girl from the table next to her noticed her distress and rushed to help her pick up each highlighter. Some of the papers on the table were soaked through, but a boy in a vest walked over to her with a stack of napkins from the beverage counter and began to gently dab the wet pages. She looked up at her Good Samaritans and smiled with relief.
Who: a sleepy and freezing student who wants to return to her cozy bed
Where: Butterfly Cafe on the campus of High Point University
When: Mid-afternoon on a freezing Saturday in January
What I’m drinking: Raspberry Truffle Latte
