Coffee Shops, Lipstick Stains And Sticky Notes

Angie

I walked in through the doors of “Michael’s Coffee shop” and walked over to the counter. Coffee shop boy was working today, and he was currently flirting with an old lady. I shake my head, and a strand of hair falls over my shoulder.

Like this motion sent an alarm to coffee shop boy, he turned around. He just stopped whatever he was doing, and looked at me.

I looked down on my dirty combat boots and then back up to meet his gaze. Having him looking at me never failed to make me nervous. It wasn’t that kind of stare that makes you feel like the dude is undressing you with his eyes, nope. This is the other kind. The one where it feels like they can see straight through your make up, your fake smiles and long sleeved shirts. 

“Ah, Angelina! So nice to see you.” I looked away from Coffee shop boy, and over at Michael who owns this place.

“Hey, Mikey.” I greeted. I looked over my shoulder at Coffee shop boy but he was nowhere to be seen. Mikey took my order and told me to sit down.

I sat down at my table. I always sit at this small round table. It’s placed close to a big window which gives me perfect view of the city and its life. I think it’s beautiful. 

I place my backpack next to my chair, pull out my note book and my camera and proceed to download today’s pictures to my computer. 

“A regular dark coffee and a chocolate cupcake?” A unfamiliar voice asked. I looked up from my computer screen to see Coffee shop boy standing next to me.

I smiled shyly and nodded. He placed my cup and the small plate with my cupcake on the table and walked back to the counter. Why would he come out with my order when they have waitresses who does that for a living?

I shook my head and looked back on my screen.

I’ve been trying to come up with how I want this picture I took of Max when we we’re in the park yesterday. The light had been perfect, and the air had this smell of rain. He had ran straight to the swings, and I couldn’t help but capture the moment.

I took off an elastic and tied my wild curls into a bun. I took the cup to my mouth and tasted the caffeine filled wonderland. When I placed it back onto the table, I smiled at the lipstick stain I left on the edge.

 I noticed that something was taped to the bottom of the mug. It was a sticky note. Folding it open I saw a neat hand writing.

You leave lipstick stains on your coffee mugs

They are like the fingerprints you leave on the door handle when you enter the room

They’re all beautiful, just like you