It started with a coffee shop.
I bet you're wondering, who I am, what I'm doing writing this pointless blog. But my therapist said it would help, it would keep my mind dedicated to something. It was either a blog or a diary. I figured, why not just share my personal life with a bunch of elaborated teenagers who have no intensions of leaving their computer screens.
My names Luke, I'm ridiculously tall, I tend to observe more then I give my impute on conversations, I collect 2 dollar bills, and I'm an artist, it's my career- one that I actually enjoy. I started off working at a pet store and believe me the kittens were absolutely adorable, but it wasn't anything that intrigued me enough to stay. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to commit every time I heard the sound of the scanner while I rang people up for purchases.
The coffee shop-
It was the beginning of April, you can imagine the harsh needle pricking air of New York City, my peach pale sweater dangled over my thin body as I carried a few worn to the core books, and my laptop, which didn't have a case because my cat ripped that up the first day I brought it home. I love my cat though, (I stole her the day I retired from the pet-store) she has creamy baize fur and a tiny faded pink nose, (don't tell my mom).
The small ring of the bell sounded as I entered the shop, the smell of cinnamon, a strong rich vanilla scent and stale coffee filled my nose. Cute little snowman scones were left freshly baked sitting in the newly washed window case, even though Christmas is far from near, the fragile worker, Katie is her name, adores Christmas and baked holiday cookies no matter what the time of year.
I shaked my arms around trying to free my hands from the oversized sweater, the sound of rain tapping against the window made me sigh in relief because I just made it here before it started pouring.
"Luke the usual?" Katie peered her head up from the counter calling to me in a soft tone, her skin a dark brown completion with freckles scattered like stars. Her hands were filled with folded napkins and plastic spoons while she struggled to serve customers and re-fill the thin plastic cups.
I contemplated helping her but quickly decided against it.
"Whenever you're free" I smiled, setting my things down on the dark oak table by the window. I had a thing for vanilla, it subtracted away from the bitter black taste of coffee. I listened to the rain picking up, tattering loud splashes against the glass.
Finally sitting down in the chair that was far to close to the ground. I flipped open my laptop, typing in the password I simply used for everything. My boney fingers were twisting and stretching as I tried to get my headphones untangled.
Usually I would have been oblivious to any human form but when the small bell chimed noting that someone had entered the shop my eyes shot for the door, just like a dog sensing a stranger.
I'll never regret the few seconds I didn't wear my headphones with my eyes burned into the computer screen. I caught sight of the most beautiful figure standing in distraught. Unaware of my stalkish stare.
His hair was white, like smoke, with a hint of deep blue, just like the ocean. And his eyes, a pretty minty green, also specks of blues. Tattoos littered his paper white skin like an art museum. My heart leaped, the feeling of cravence and satisfaction running through my veins. It was a wanting, a needing.
"Michael over here!" A perky cliche blond cried, waving her hand way to fast. At this point I soaked in my defeat.
My stomach knotted as I watched his perfect figure dance over to her. His hair slightly dampened by the rain, he shook off his leather jacket that couldn't possibly keep him warm.
He lowered down to the seat, smiling with white teeth and husking out a small giggle, the two of them jumping into a constant chat instantly. A frown soon smeared across my face, a slow sigh leaving my lips.
Michael was his name, and I wanted to get to know this, Michael from the coffee shop.
