Barista • h.s

2

HARRY

"Sure." She replied, then quickly sped off.

Did I just dream that whole scenario? How was she here one second, then gone the next? Surely she can't be real. I think I just talked to myself in a coffee shop for 45 minutes. 45 minutes I talked to this (possibly made-up) woman. Yet, no matter how many questions I asked her, I don't think I really found anything out about her at all.

She's from Tennessee, apparently. Though, she seemingly has no southern accent. Aren't people from Tennessee supposed to be, like, really southern? Also, we're in Oregon. What's a girl from Tennessee doing in Oregon?

To be fair, I'm a man from England living in Oregon. I gave her my reason, though. She did not give me one. I told her about my career, she told me she 'does a bit of everything'. What the fuck does that mean?

I sighed and shook my head, hoping to clear my thoughts a bit. I started my walk back home, as the coffee shop was only a few blocks away from where I lived. Of course, though, the walk home did nothing but confuse me more. Is she meaning to be so mysterious? Is that just the way she is with everyone?

I made it home rather quickly, as the sun was setting and I don't like to be outside at nighttime. I still couldn't get the black-haired, blue-eyed girl out of my mind. As I made a cup of warm tea and settled down in my bed, I continued to think of her. Natalina is her name. I know she goes by Nat, or at least that's what her coworkers called her. She wouldn't even give me a last name.

I took a warm shower after I finished my tea and climbed into bed. 10:30 is a bit early for me to sleep, but I needed to put my mind elsewhere. It's like this woman was made to confuse me.