Coffee Shop

The sky outside hung low and heavy with the continued threat of rain. It held none of the violence of a thunderstorm but all the comfort of a dampened, muted, world. The rain pattered upon a small brick building nestled between two tall complexes. One held apartments for living, the other contained offices for business. Between these two vertical obelisks of modern living was this rustic gem of tradition and quiet persistence. There were hanging planters of various greenery dangling down from the ceiling. Ivy was allowed to crawl up the brick walls in sections. The air was punctuated with scents of earth, coffee, warmth, and life. The old wooden door has flyers plastered on it from local bands playing nearby venues, bars having themed nights, and theaters advertising their upcoming events. A small bell hung above the door, loud enough to notify entry, but soft enough to not interrupt any existing customer's reverie.

The sky had been weeping for weeks now. He didn't know who she had lost, and he knew not how to ask, but her loss was felt by all those huddled souls clutching their possessions and dashing from cover to cover. His mug of coffee warmed his weathered hands as he held it. They were hands that had seen him through many years of life, and still had many years to guide him still. The man's face matched his weathered hands, wrinkles beginning to become permanent and the beginnings of white showing up in his hair and trimmed goatee. As he softly brought the dark brew to his mouth, the warmth cascaded from his cup into his body and brought a sense of calming peace. That was all that he needed to know in that moment as he watched the diffuse lights of a lazy world glow through the thick pane of plate glass.

The waitress, in a moment of transgression from the defined roles of customer and server, sat down across from him. They locked eyes. She said nothing, and nothing needed to be said. The name tag stated that she went by Angie. Her hair was cut short and styled high, colored a faint auburn on top of her natural brown. Her eyes were a shade of hazel that seemed to simultaneously match both the green of a verdant forest and the brown of nurturing earth. Her face held the small beginnings of laugh lines and tired eyes.

Introductions being complete, they returned to gazing out of the window. Both contented with watching the realm existing beyond these walls.

Ringling.

The bell jingled and Angie pushes her chair away from the small table. With a grace that spoke to her years of practice and familiarity, she moved behind the counter and prepared herself to take the order of the dripping woman who had just stepped into the shop.

The male smiled softly to himself, breathed a heavy sigh, and finished his coffee.