Quiet

Cassie

She sat in the corner of the cafe, the booth in the far corner being her favorite spot. In the corner, you could see everything, the world around you simply moving around and not paying attention to you. She liked that, when no one paid attention to her.

Her hand moved quickly across the paper, people always teasing her for the archaic form of writing that she preferred over the strenuous act of typing. It is not like she could not type, she could type the fastest in her class. There was something far more personal about writing on a blank piece of paper because she found it as a metaphor for life. 

If life is like a blank page, is it not my job to fill it? To put my heart and soul out there for the world to read and hopefully understand how I am feeling? 

Her hand faltered at the instant she wrote "feeling". What was she feeling? 

Hatred. Her mother had yelled at her for staying up to late and keeping the lights on, irritating her vision even though she was in a room down the hall with the door closed.

Disgust. If she got a minute of her mothers attention, it was quickly lost on her mothers precious pet, yelling louder than a human would when it was in need of attention. When she saw the parrots eye look at her, she felt mocked.

Sadness. She just wanted her mother to  realize she did love her, that she did want to give her the attention that she wanted. But her mother only saw her as a girl who would stick to what she wanted and that was isolation.

Her hand flicked the papers in the Moleskin notebook, listening as the ink stained pages wrinkled as her fingers nimbly flicked them back and forth. The sound comforted her more than music, because unlike the work of other artists this was hers to appreciate, the sounds of her hand moving across page after page and pouring out her soul just like a musician did.

She leaned back in the booth after that, the pen clipped to the front cover of the journal and picked up her tea she had ordered ten minutes ago. It had cooled by now, especially since she dropped one or two ice cubes inside to help the cooling process.  She put her spoon in the cup and moved it slowly, watching the colors of the tea swirl around with the string of the tea bag. It was interesting how even if they were disrupted they still came back into harmony. 

Cassie picked up the cup and took a slow drink, almost a sip as she surveyed the cafe. By coming between noon and four o'clock, she could see all types of people. Being a people watcher was not something she intended to do but it is something that happened in her life and she enjoyed it.

There was a couple, probably in her grade of school, on a date, their hands locked together and a plate of food between them. She looked closely at the girl and saw love and affection for the boy. The boy on the other hand had wandering eyes and she did not have to be close to know that the words he uttered to his girlfriend were harsh, her hands flinching slightly in his. 

The man who played his saxophone at five in the afternoon came in early, a young girl that Cassie assumed to be his daughter trailing. The man looked excited that his daughter had finally come with him to something but she could only stare at her phone then the menu board where Cassie could hear the father making the comment, "We ate before we came, do you really need the muffin?" 

Cassie looked a bit longer at the girl with her father and felt pity on her. Her on father would never have taken her out, even if it was by force. Cassie's father always said they would do something but quickly forgot when other priorities came up. Of course they were not priorities, at least they were not to her. Going out with friends and leaving your family behind were not priorities when a seven year old wanted to do nothing else but visit the science museum.