Short Stories

Coffee Shop

A girl sits in the corner of a coffee shop. A girl sips her drink, warm and rich on her tongue. The girl watches. She sits and notices the people. She's sure they notice her too, but not in the same way she notices them. She's careful, almost methodical in her thoughts on this place. She looks at her phone, taking a break. Sometimes the people are boring. She looks to the countless people she could text, reach out to. She looks at the countless people in her contacts. The countless people she no longer sees, no longer spends hours talking to. She misses those people, she misses the life she lived with them. But she left. They stayed, stayed together, stayed close. She wonders if they ever think of her. Knowing they never do. These people are not her, they do not live her life. Only she can do that. These people, they're on their own, just as she is. But she still misses them. Even if sometimes a simple text or call with an update on how everyone is doing is now an inconvenience. She sends a few texts. To the old, to the new, to the ones who were supposed to be forever. She sets the phone down, she's done her part. Now she must wait. Wait impatiently for the thing she needs. She is hanging on a branch of someones every word, and they haven't even spoke. This shouldn't mean so much to her. But it does. She knows and she can't control it. The girl looks back up at the cafe. A dog has sat themselves at a tree outside. It's human is sitting, sipping, drinking their coffee. Minding their business. He sits, types, looks. She watches him, enchanted with the man. What is he typing? The dog is in someone's way. He doesn't notice. The woman maneuvers and manages past the dog, guiding a nasty sneer toward the man. The girl smiles. He wasn't watching. He should have been paying more attention. She's found she's been watching him for 8 minutes, and been at the cafe for 15. She needs to leave. She stands up, quickly and quietly moving out of the cafe. The door opens with a small ring, only then the barista waving goodbye and telling her to have a nice day. The girl comes here everyday and is sure the barista doesn't even know her name. She walks out and looks at the dog, she smiles and looks to the man. He doesn't spare her a single glance. That was expected, but nevertheless disappointing. She turns and walks in the opposite direction, the dog watching her as she continues on. Her phone rings. A reply. A single reply. She smiles, and crosses the street. Now she is the one not paying attention. She doesn't care. This has made her smile. Little does that anymore. She doesn't feel joy, she doesn't feel sadness, she feels relief and excitement. No one speaks to her. No one notices her. Except when everyone does. She is no one. She is a ghost.