Short Stories | Sean x Kaycee

A Little Too Not Over You

I didn't realize I saved this lol

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Her lips stretched into a delighted smile as she nodded slightly at the old woman at the flower stall, earning a bright, almost toothless smile from her.

“Looking good, my dear,” the old woman said in her raspy voice, extending a stem of carnation to her.

She laughed, thanking the old woman as she received the beautiful flower before parking and chaining her bike. The strong summer wind blew, her floral summer dress flying around her legs, and her auburn curls bouncing off her shoulders. She took a satisfied breath as she smelt the pink flower as entering the small coffee and pastry shop, her sketchbook tucked in her hand by her side.

The small smile was still on her face as she greeted the cashier and said her order, even as she greeted familiar customers, and even as she took her usual spot at the corner of the shop by the floor to ceiling window.

She loved it there —her new sanctuary. People say they envy that permanent smile on her face, but little did they know that it was etched out of practice, out of need. She smiled as her cup of vanilla latte came and she smiled as she opened her sketchbook to the recent piece she was working on.

She smiled as her portrait of a girl smiled, with little tears on her eyes.

Then she slipped into her world of art, occasionally pausing to hear the strings of sea shells that hung from the ceiling and the chimes by the entrance making music as the wind danced around the place. She admired the various handcrafts out of broken and recycled materials that adorned the walls, shining with the reflection of the sun from outside.

She appreciates beauty, especially beauty from broken things. That’s why that place is so special for her.

She smiled as she immersed herself in her drawing, humming along with the country music that played inside the café.

Then the chimes by the door sounded like stars.

He entered the place quietly, also with a small smile on his face, directly looking at the handcrafts and the shells by the ceiling. He paused by the entrance, staring in amusement at the shells dangling from the ceiling, a familiar look she knew, as he too loved beauty from broken things.

But by now, her smile had faltered.

“Welcome!”

His attention was diverted to the cashier and he smiled, approaching the counter.

Her gaze were now fixed on her drawing, her hand holding the pencil was shaking as he took a seat on the table directly facing her, also by the window. He, too, loved the view of outside.

She took a furtive glance at the boy in front of her, still studying his surroundings, and that was when she noticed what he was wearing.

She remembered, on the second time she saw him, how she had to suppress laughter in his sudden change in wardrobe –a gray long sleeved polo shirt, something he wouldn’t normally wear. He was a dancer, and he finds comfort on his oversized shirts and sweatpants. And when she learned the reason behind him cleaning up, she couldn’t help a small smile appearing on her face. She loved that shirt.