" Two black coffees, "
" That will be six ninety five." There's a pause as she digs through her back pack and an exchange of thank yous and the typical little noises of a cash register. Without looking, I listen to the muted thud of her doc martens and then the awkward sound of a kiss before another thanks and finally, the sound of her chair scrape backwards and then forward again. I didn't have to turn around to know that it was her, her and the boyfriend.
At ten each morning the couple walks in with beanies and doc martens. He smokes in the corner and she gets coffee, a different name each time.
I knew that when she walked over to there usual table they would kiss before she fell into her own oversized arm chair. Always oversized. Oversized sweaters, coats, hoodies, shirts, everything but those damn jeans. She's petite really, but when I see her shirt hanging from her small figure, pencil gripped in her dainty hand and a cigarette dangling from the other she looks so small. Small and beautiful.
I also knew that the she was about to unzip her backpack and draw something
incredible as she did regularly. She always sit there, hand darting across the page in rapid motions sometimes with color, others just with pencil. And when she's done she falls against the arm chair and smokes a few rings before downing the rest of her cold coffee and poking the boy excitedly. Then she'll explain to him passionately about every little piece of the drawing and he'll mumble something annoying and then of course, more kissing.
And when I'm sure that shes busy with her art and hes busy doing whatever, I casualy lean out of my chair and peek behind me at her. As thats what I always do, you see. Turning back to my open notebook I shake out my curls. The couple behind completely oblivious of the lonely boy that comes every morning... at nine fifty five.
BOOK INSPIRATION :
Green Eyes - Coldplay
Ship to wreck - Florence + Machine
