Cold Coffee

The air is cold, with the smallest hint of coffee beans drifting from the nearby coffee shop. The tangled branches of leafless trees make silhouettes against the sky, whose clouds look like grey puzzle pieces laid out on the black emptiness. Only a few stars insisted on shining, leaving only the neon open signs and strings of lights to illuminate the town. Just cross the cobble stone road, a river silently flows with the lights of the cafe rippling calmly in the reflections. People enter and leave the shop in pairs. No one is truly alone: those without someone to accompany them have a dog to walk or a destination they are desperately determined to get to. The surround buildings have old architecture, each different from the next, giving the roofs a dipping and rising layout. The door to a nearby restaurant opens, releasing a murmur of voices, talking and laughing, into the seemingly silent air. Attention to the atmosphere reveals sounds- a dog barking, the crosswalk chirping, cars driving. Outside, the cold seems to suffocate noises, and they get lost in a fog of silence. Life surrounds us, but something always seems to suppress are ability to notice it.

The small café is full of people, life, and warmth. Inside, brick shows through on the walls. A couple sits in front of the window, her head resting on her partner’s shoulder, in a cute and extended hug. Another couple- much younger than the first-enters, the boy holding the door open for his girl. They must be on their first date, judging by their to-go boxes of food and giggly smiles. A man sits alone in one corner accompanied only by a cup of coffee and plate full of crumbles that once held some kind of pastry. He waits for a long time in silence, sipping his coffee and gazing out the window. There is a dull sadness in his eyes that could almost be mistaken for boredom, like a cup of coffee, once warm with flavor, now grown cold and unwanted. It seems he is accompanied by his own memories and past. An old man asks him something, and, distracted from his thoughts for a moment, he helps him. Despite the fact he is unhappy and despite the fact he doesn’t know the old man, he helps him.
“Everyone takes care of me; thank you,” he says with appreciation. When the old man leaves, he joins his wife outside, he kisses her on the forehead, and they ever so slowly walk past the window. The lone man then gets another cup of coffee and returns to his corner, pensively looking out the window again. The young woman working at the café clears away his plate, but he’s distracted by some other memory replaying in his mind. He sighs and finishes his coffee and stretches and puts on his coat and leaves.

A teenage girl in an oversized sweatshirt enters. She has a camera, tripod, and bag in her hands which she seems to barely be managing. She asks for a coffee cake in a small voice. The man behind the counter hands her a little brown bag, but rejects the crumpled ten dollars she offers him. Shaking his head, he tells her not to worry about it. Her face brightens and she thanks him. She heads for a small table and displays her extreme clumsiness. Tripping and spilling, dropping and bumping, apologizing and squeaking-the noise she made was never ending, but was always followed by an apologetic smile. Once situated in her seat she inhales the remainder of her cake, a process resulting in crumbles everywhere, and takes out crumpled paper, which she scribbles away at for the rest of the time there.

Everywhere in and around the café created a photogenic quality to it, as if the entire town was constantly prepared for a photo shoot, an appearance that didn’t always match the absolute truth. Even when the sun was shining, the air was cold. Even when people seem cold, their hearts are shining. Those who look lonely are not, and those who don’t, are. Even when leaving the café, couples are entering and sitting outside and walking along the street: never alone, yet always a little lonely. How funny it is that, despite divorce rates and unhappy endings, people strive so desperately to find the impossible. How funny it is to think that the hours and days spent to achieve the happily ever after will one day probably be wasted. The cold air isn’t getting warmer and the river won’t stop flowing; love isn’t getting easier and time won’t stop ticking. However, regardless of our loneliness, there will always be someone: someone to point you in the right direction, or to go out of their way to make your day brighter. No one is ever truly alone.

Cassidy V