Coffee Shop

A Story by yanacolors

A short story for a writing prompt:

A stubby looking business man rushes past you to open the door to the quaint coffee shop. Your eyes widen as he hesitates at the door momentarily, glancing behind him before letting the door slam shut. Your strained eye sockets relax as you remember this happening every time, he’s only trying to be courteous, to see if anyone is behind him as he’s walking in. A deep exhale exits your lungs as you pass through the unopened door. You’re not sure how long it’s been since you died, but every morning you are back here �" 8:00 am sharp, because that day you were running late.

It’s 8:02 now, you stand at the massive windows of the coffee shop, watching the rain fall peacefully as the busy life on the street continues, not caring if it gets wet. You have so many memories on this street. Across the way there is a flower shop, your husband bought you flowers for every occasion there, you loved how thoughtful and sweet it was, but you also knew he just loved flowers.

A little way down the road you can see the flicker of the neon “take-out” sign pointing at the hole in the wall Chinese place where you and your husband, accidentally had your first date. He had made reservations at a high-end restaurant, the kind where you were required to dress like you made six figures. You remember walking through the doors in your only pair of good heals, hanging on to his arm in case you stumbled. Your husband gave his name for the reservation, but the host looked terribly confused, he shook his head and told you the person under that name had already arrived. You husband was so angry, but as you walked down the street, him carrying your shoes, you were both laughing uncontrollably at the situation. The rain started then and you dove into the Chinese take out place to avoid it. You remember they had the best wonton soup ever and you religiously picked it up after work, long after you were already married.

You felt the pang of emotion as you recalled the way your husband looked at you, with your long, dark hair, your fair skin. You were a goddess to him. After 20 years of marriage he still told you how lucky he was to have you by his side. You felt the same way, you often let him fall asleep first while stroking his graying hair, resting his head on your breast as you read another book about leadership and the importance of valuing your staff. You hadn’t been very important in the corporate world, but you did have your own, small franchise store at the local mall. You poured your heart and soul into it and your ten employees adored you.

8:10 am now, you turn around, looking at the interior of the coffee shop. You came here every morning, always surrounded by the same people, but you didn’t know any of their names, you didn’t know what they did or if they were happy. Sometimes you made eye contact and smiled at each other or gave the general head nod of acknowledgement. You smile weakly, your pouty lips trembling a little with the effort. The stubby business man had long ordered his coffee and was sitting in his usual corner, typing hurriedly on his lap top. He always looked like he was pressed for time, like he was very important, but he always held the door open for you even when you were far enough away that it wasn’t necessary. You glance from face to face, there is the young girl, so beautiful you’ve always though she was a super model. She came every few days sprawling her textbooks of organic chemistry across a small, round table and slowly writing out equations and notes in a college ruled notebook. The woman who looked about your age who picked up her latte and stood at the side window for five minutes every morning before heading off to her next appointment. The tall man that still read the newspaper on one of the bigger, softer chairs, sipping his coffee casually like he had nowhere to be.

You look across the counter at the barista, a curvy girl with a buzzed haircut and diamond stones piercing through where her dimples would be. You wonder if she actually has dimples, or if the piercings were wishful thinking. She’s so sweet, you think, always smiling, always asking about how yesterday had gone and if you were ready to start today, as she prepared your whole milk latte with a shot of espresso and the quick pump of hazelnut flavoring. You wonder if she misses you, the her that’s living life as it continues on without you, instead of this her that’s stuck in an endless loop with your ghost, watching yourself perish again and again.

You’ve tried, time and time again to understand why you were stuck here, stuck in the same day in this coffee shop. You’d walk off in another direction, only to find that it leads you right back to the glass door and the fading chalk sign of today’s special. You’ve walked through the walls of nearby buildings, only to find yourself inside the coffee shop at 8:02 am. Maybe this was hell? Maybe you’d done something terribly wrong in your life and this was your hell, never being able to see your husband again, to video chat with your son across the states in college or to pet the orange tabby cat he left you when he left. But you weren’t sad anymore.

8:16 am, you turn to the window, there you are, running late because your ability to pull yourself out of bed today was shot. You were so tired from the night before, the thunderstorm keeping you up clear into the morning light. You are holding your favorite umbrella, the one with pink zebra stripes on it and the rain is coming down harder now. You swing your purse over your shoulder at the red light, so that you can move the stray hairs knocked into your view by the wind, away. You can see the light turn green through the strands and you step out onto the cross walk.

A stubby looking business man rushes past you to open the door to the quaint coffee shop.

© 2019 yanacolors

Author's Note

I haven't written in quite some time... Just trying to remember how!

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Featured Review

Franco

Okay, so, there is a lot to say about this short story. First and foremost, very entertaining. The visuals are very strong and painted a good picture. Next, the narrators voice was also very well written. I say this because I was able to see reality from the perspective of the narrator and not my own. Finally, the ending. Wow, the ending was great! Wrapping the entire story by bringing it back to the beginning loop was excellent. I love creative stories like these that catch you off guard. Excellent!