habits

coffee shop

     I am awakened by the abrupt sound of an alarm clock. Its face reads 10:25am.

     Even though you are long gone, I am still surrounded and enveloped by all your quirks and oddities. You are everywhere.

     The floral arrangements of carnations that were once vividly colored in hues of whites and yellows and pinks are now wilted to a murky, deep brown. You brought them home one day and placed them on the countertop of the dining table to add color into my dull apartment. I haven't bothered to throw them out or fill the vase with new ones. The water in its once crystal clear vase has long since evaporated, a white crust of film taking place along the inside. I can't seem to remember the last time I had watered it, or if I ever did.

     Traces of your vexing inclinations are left scattered across my apartment. The window blinds are all turned at an approximate 45° angle upwards so as to let in the right amount of sunlight during the day but keep wandering eyes from being able to look inside. The collection of ballpoint pens and different writing mediums, ranging from sticky notes to notepads to even old envelopes, were everywhere; on every table in every room because you never knew when an idea could strike you and it needed to be written down.
I'm almost tempted to scour my entire apartment rid of all those things; just to rid itself of your presence, any indication that you were once here. But, I know no matter how hard I try, I could never do it. It brings me comfort, it makes it feel as if you're still here with me. Like a ghost between the walls, you still haunt me every night.

     Almost like a habit, I find myself at the coffee shop we used to always go to. Its familiar warm scent of ground coffee beans and freshly baked sweets gently draws me in. There, I can see everything as it used to be when I spent those Saturday afternoons with you. It was always during the afternoon when we both had our last classes for the day. It was a window of time we both shared between our college courses and part-time jobs.

     Today feels different. I hum along to a tune I'm not sure I've heard anywhere before, perhaps something I've made up to go along with this spontaneous mood I currently find myself in. My feet walk me to the coffee shop. Our coffee shop.

     The bell chimes its familiar jingle and I stop at what I see.

     It's you.

     No, not a figment of my imagination, the one that I see every now and again when I've had too much to drink or the one that looms over the kitchen sink, furiously scribbling away on a paper napkin, only to disappear once I step too close. You're there, sitting at a table two tables away from the one we used to always sit at together. I know you are real because your hair is shorter. It frames your face in a way I've never seen before, accenting your jaw structure and exposing the pale skin at the nape of your neck. You're now wearing glasses, a pair of rounded black framed glasses, perched at the bridge of your nose.

     You are there. It's been awhile since I've seen you; the you in person and not in my dreams or thoughts. You've changed a lot, at least appearance-wise. I can already guess the drink you have in front of you, your old favorite that you ordered every time we came. Caramel macchiato. In the days I spent with you, almost all of them could be resurfaced with the simple scent of caramel.

     I almost call out to you, just to see you smile and hear you ask the age old question of "So, how have you been?" but for some reason, I stop myself. I forgot the way your name sounded, I hadn't said it in so long. It isn't until I see you are smiling that I notice the man sitting with you. His back is turned to me.
I finally catch your eye, your smile disappearing slowly as you seem to recognize me. I feel a mix of emotions. But none were the emotions I had expected to feel if I were to ever come across a scenario exactly as this. I contemplate many actions, but out of all the ones that run across my mind within a matter of milliseconds, I do the strangest one of all.

     I smile. Breaking the brief contact we've ever had since you left, I give a courteous nod and turn around to leave.

     As I walk further from our coffee shop, the strong aroma of coffee fades away and the sweet scent of caramel that once filled my lungs quickly disappears.