To Be a Beauty

Chapter 58 : Archer Coleman

Every day is always a routine.

Wake up early, get dressed, go to work, go home, then sleep.

The constant dread of the alarm ringing, blasting through one's ear. The first deep breath the moment you wake up, heavy eyelids blinking languidly as one's eyes gradually focused, its once hazy sight turning clearer as it gazed upon the familiar color of one's ceiling.

Such was the life of every human walking down the street, gazing down their window, or perhaps those forever confined in their beds, all just struggling to live.

There may be a point in time where one is pardoned with time to gaze upon people, observing their behavior, their dress, their appearances.

There is no doubt that everyone is similar to one another. But how similar are we to each other?

It makes one wonder, do they feel the same happiness or dread whenever their eyes open? Do they love their jobs just as much as the other does? Are they a person who loves dogs or cats?

How do they live their lives?

How does it feel to be them?

And that thought came across a certain man's mind the moment his eyes gravitated towards the cafe door, the warmth that his breath holds, softly brushing the warm cloth wrapped around his neck, veiny hands stiffening more as they held the icy cold metal handle, his palms immediately reddening, goosebumps running across his arms as he pushed his way inside.

Slowly, the warmth came back to his icy toes and frosty fingertips. The sound of the heater humming, the constant rumbling from the coffee grinder, and the same old chime welcomed him as if he was back in his own time.

He did not know, but such sounds brought wonders to his ever stiffening but now softening shoulders. A deep hum vibrated in his chest, wrinkled fingers feeling the rigid stumps and the smoothness of the thick wooden slab, glazed with the same old varnish he knew the moment he gazed upon this in the past. It, if ever slowly, graced a small smile with his lips.

"Good morning!"

A chirpy voice, yet with a hint of husk. The man's brows crinkled. He did not know this voice.

Clasping his hands behind his back, his foot shifted as it turned towards the counter.

He did not know the girl either. He thought as he finally got a glimpse of the face behind that youthful voice.

A small smile threatened to slip out of his lips, yet he held on, smiling more widely and trying to repay the cheerfulness of the youngster's voice.

"Good morning to you too, dear."

The girl's smile blossomed into a grin, left hand reaching from her back and the other to the front pocket of her dark greyish apron.

"If you're having trouble ordering, just call me, and I'll help as much as possible."

He only nodded with a smile, even though he already had a drink in mind.

Stiff and cheeks already starting to cramp, he held on by the corner of the table, shifting some of his weight onto the wooden plank.

He was waiting for the girl to leave him be, not finding in himself to tell her to 'Go on. Just do your job while I observe this cafe that I'm in.' That would imply that he was freeloading like those customers lounging at a cafe for the wifi while not ordering for a drink. Not that he had gadgets with him, he only had his phone in the pocket of his coat, and he mostly used that to answer calls.

The man decided to look around, age-mottled hands going back to its house, fitting snugly within the crevices of his pants pockets. His eyes drank the rustic walls of the space, glazing over each reddish-brown brick, noticing the patterns as well as a variety of browns and blacks. With the light seeping in through the large windows at his back and warm light present in little bottles of tin cans in the cafe, which he later knew as scented candles--something that he knew his wife used to make in their earlier days.