FEBRUARY | WRITING DUMP

━━━MORNING COFFEE

written: 11/22/20 & 12/15/20

prompt: soulmate prompt

words: 1,630

-ˏˋ ☕ ˎˊ-

August winced at the faint stinging on his calf. The more he tried to ignore the small nuisance, the more it begged for his attention.

He bent to tug down his bunched up sock, immediate relief crawling over his skin. A minimal amount of blood was blotted atop curling, white skin. It was incredibly small but irritated him to wit's end. He didn't know where the cut came from, he had no clue how he managed to mess up skin that had been covered by fabric. But the afternoon heat was doing well to draw dampness to the surface of his integument and in turn covering his entire lower limb in a burning sensation.

It was less than pleasant.

August's shoe only rose to his ankle and he was positive his socks were the extra soft kind. Where in the world--and when--did he manage to pierce his skin?

After a few minutes of squinting at the back of his leg, bent awkwardly in the middle of a public street, August straightened with a shrug.

One of the many mysteries of life, he supposed. It wasn't the first time a random bruise or cut rented space on his body without any explanation. (And without pay.)

With a deep, calming breath, August pushed past his confusing internal debate on whether his wounds should pay him rent or not. He would have a nice walk until he reached the busy city, watching his solidified breath dance in the air with falling leaves of a variety of colors. Russet cordate-like greenery flitted across cement, teasing his feet with every step. It was like a red carpet of organic matter mapping his way.

August's moment of superiority ended the second he entered the busyness of work-life. Bodies rushing from street to street, heels clicking against glossy floorboards, lights flashing on every corner. It was a lot to take in, but August barely stopped a second before diving in headfirst. He was used to a place like this, going from serene park scenes to life a million miles a second.

And then the sudden quiet and faint scent of freshly ground coffee beans and warm chocolate that washes over you as you stepped inside the cafe. Every morning, August found a new place to enjoy his morning coffee; it was his personal definition of thrilling.

This morning's candidate was one he'd truly never noticed in his seeking for new breakfast houses. It was a stand-alone business run by mostly college students and young adults, from what he'd heard, and it was a newer place--which promised a clean, honest experience. August was satisfied with his decision when the familiar wave met him at the door paired with a small jingle.

It was busy, but not packed. The sleep-deprived and therefore mild-mannered customers made for a calm atmosphere, which August appreciated. Clutching his bag to his side, he made his way to the counter, eyes scanning the menu as he did so leisurely.

Usually, by the time he was inches away from the cashier, an employee would inquire about his order and generally how his day was going so far.

But August found himself met with silence. Even as he shifted on his feet to signal his presence, the woman manning the counter remained stooped, head ducked. She was a blonde, as far as he could see, her thick hair tied back and protruding from a brown hat.

"Excuse me," he tried, leaning over the marble for a better look.

She startled, her head colliding with the bottom lip of the counter in her haste to rise. August winced deeply, feeling a similar pang in his head as he watched her struggle to compose herself.