Freefall ✓

09 | macchiato

Chemistry between people is the strangest science of all

—bridgett devoue

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AUDREY

If climate change isn't real then I don't know what could've possibly explained this sudden wave of tropical heat in late October. I was so excited for my favorite season of the year— oversized sweaters, bonfires, blustery days, and crunchy colorful leaves season. All glazed with a magnificent paint of bronze. Autumn.

Instead, I found myself standing behind the cashbox of Rivera Books in short sleeves and still feeling the need of fanning myself with something, as the flustered lady in front of me tried to read something off a crumpled piece of paper.

"Never let me go," she paused and her eyebrows drew together even more, "by Kas-Kazuo Eesee- eeshee—"

"Ishiguro," I filled in, helping her out. Nice choice, I thought to myself. "Hmm, I'm pretty sure we've got it available in stock. I'll be right back."

With those words, I left her behind and hopped up the stairs towards the stockroom as quickly as I could, feeling the first symptoms of exhaustion kick in. 

Today had been pretty hectic. Normally when Lydia couldn't come there'd always be Dominic. I know that this claim will sound rather contradictory after what I've said about him— but I've got to say —Dominic had always been there to support me during the busiest and most stressful times. Clients could get to be beyond all bearing but I'd still feel alright with him beside me. 

Today, however, he was nowhere to be found. 

Sure enough, after almost no effort of seeking, a canary yellow paperback of 'Never Let Me Go' by Kazuo Ishiguro was staring back at me as I held it. I reappeared behind the cashbox once again, to finalize the purchase.

"Thank you for trusting in Rivera Books. Enjoy your read!" I repeated for perhaps the millionth time and received the reciprocal thanks and smile from the lady. The bells tinkled — a soft and familiar melody I loved and hated simultaneously — and the book shop, at last, turned client-and-need-of-attendance-free. Woohoo! I sighed dramatically, relief flushing through me like seamless silk.

Dominic's absence ended up having compensation. Right next to the entrance of the shop sat a cross-legged and very very bored Syd. She had been spiritlessly sucking on a straw of a Starbucks drink and vacantly gazing at a book in her hand.

As you may have already guessed, Syd wasn't here by cause of her love for books. She was waiting for my shift to end so we could've gone make-up shopping.

Now, before you label me as a person who treated 'make-up shopping' as a thing to organise a date for, let me explain. All I needed was to replenish my nude lipstick supply. And I made the unwise slip-up of mentioning it to Sydney Rae Foster — the queen of make-up and dramatizing every situation. So—of course— she offered me the special service of her tour through the best make-up shops in town, product explanation and recommendation inclusive. I could already preview our evening.

All I needed was one nude lipstick. . .

"You know, officially food and drinks aren't allowed here," I announced as I strolled towards her. 

No reaction— she proceeded to lazily suck on the straw. "That includes coffee," I elaborated for her as I got close.

"Iced Caramel Macchiato, actually," she responded, mundanely.