cold summers/warm winters

A Day in the Mundane

Tommy had always yearned for something more, something different. So every time it would rain he would sneak outside and just stand in it. It felt like a break from reality, the few minutes he got in the pouring rain. The raindrops felt like ice cubes on his bare skin and the cool air only added to that. It was euphoric in the fact that for a moment, he let his worries wash away. There wasn’t a tomorrow at that moment, there was only the cool water running down his cheeks.

Of course, then he’d be found outside and it all came back to him. As his roommates would scold him and guide him back inside, umbrella in hand, he would remember why he escaped into the rain in the first place. 

For all his life Tommy had been told that there was beauty in the mundane. In some cases that might've been true, but living in the mundane was completely different. Tommy had grown tired of living the same day over and over again. So at this point, he was open to any sort of change that life decided to throw his way. 

So maybe that’s why the new customer at the coffee shop he worked in piqued his interest, though he would never tell anyone that. Maybe it was because the stranger had ordered a coffee that could kill even the most hardcore of caffeine drinkers that would come in here. Or it was the way he was dressed in a sweater and coat even though it was the middle of Summer. Tommy could go on, but it would all say the same thing. This man was strange.

So the next day Tommy decided to talk to the stranger. He came in at 9 o’clock sharp just like yesterday and walked up to the counter, ordering the same thing that he did before. Tommy shot him a concerned look before he grabbed a cup and began to make the man’s drink.

“Can’t you die from this much caffeine?”

Tommy asked, his eyes flicking over towards the other scanned the area. He simply shrugged before raising an eyebrow at Tommy.

“Dunno, you’re the barista, why don’t you tell me?”

He replied, crossing his arms. To which Tommy rolled his eyes, huffing softly.

“‘Cause I’m the barista. I just make the coffee, I don’t study it.”

“Why do you even care?”

The man asked as he began to tap his foot. It didn’t seem to be because he was impatient, it was just because he could.

“Because it looks like it’d be a hassle to get rid of your body if you died on the property.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dunno, why don’t you tell me?”

Tommy replied, mocking the customer’s voice as he spoke. He then put a lid on his coffee, hearing the other mumble something along the lines of ‘little shit’ under his breath. They both knew that Tommy had heard it though.

“Who’s the order for then?”

He asked, grabbing a marker from the counter and glancing up at the man as he spoke.

“Wilbur.”

“Shit name. You got anything better?”

“What do you mean? That’s my name!”

Wilbur said and before he could say anything else Tommy scribbled a random word on his cup and shoved it towards him.

“Well maybe say a better name next time…like Tommy. That’s a way better name than fuckin’ Wilbur.”

Wilbur fumbled with his wallet, reluctantly handing Tommy a twenty-dollar bill. Even though his order was only ten dollars, but Tommy wasn’t going to complain about a tip. Then when he picked up his cup, he squinted at the writing on it before rolling his eyes.