It wasn't my choice.
Lord, it wasn't my choice.
But here I am, sitting in this corner booth, admiring the way your smile seems to light up the cafe. Your eyes twinkle also, light shining off an overhead to make your eyes reflect in golden and warm hues.
I've came in everyday since the cafe opened five months ago and you captured my attention from the very start. You were sweet to me, unlike so many people because of how quiet I am, and how shy.
I wish I had the courage to start a conversation but you know my order: a blueberry scone and a Vanilla Chai Latte, catching on after two weeks of coming. That's more than I can say than someone else who takes my order when you're busy.
And now I'm rambling. Maybe these notes were stupid, you can hear the keys of my laptop clack, clack, clacking away in the quiet atmosphere of the cafe. Not many people come here, which is flabbergasting to me because it's cute, quaint. And the coffee and baked goods here are delicious. It's not like I really need the coffee, it's just an excuse to come really.
An excuse to see you.
Love,
Briella
YOU ARE READING
Love, Briella | ✓
Short StoryBriella had fallen in love with a coffee barista at a cafe she frequented; she didn't think he'd ever notice a shy girl like her.
