A hundred times a day people throw their lives away. A marriage ruined, a child
broken. So many pieces to pick up and sweep under the rug. I saw a girl once sitting
in a coffee shop sipping her drink and reading the paper. One glance and I could
see her whole life in the smallest movements of her hands, the twitch of her lips
while she read. Her story goes something like this…

Every day for the past few years she comes to this coffee shop and get a tall soy
latte. She sits in the same chair and reads the daily paper. Her raven hair is twisted
into a messed up bun, stray pieces framing her face. Eyes darting across the paper,
an ocean blue blur. She’ll read everything but the business section and neatly refold
the whole paper before dropping her empty cup back at the counter and leaving. She
sees the same people their every time but they don’t even know her name. The door
clicks shut softly behind her as she steps out into the cold December winds. A short
walk to the bus stop and another five minute wait in the cold before it pulls up
coughing smoke and smelling of to many people crammed together, old food and spilled
soda. Velcro rip of her feet sticking to the floor as she looks for a seat without
springs sticking out like little teeth. The only vacant seat is next to a older
gentleman with dark glasses and an unkempt beard. Sitting down carefully so nothing
sharp can stab her the old man looks over at her smiling warmly. Probably wouldn’t
have been to frightening if he’d had a few teeth left. Other than him the ride home
is normal, she rings the bell at her stop and gets off. Walks the rest of the way
home unlocks her door and greets her husband.

The next day at work she clocks in and says hello to everyone there. Her eyes lingering
on one person for a fraction of a second longer. A smile playing at the corners
of her lips, genuine and unrepressed also gone in a split second. Working hard,
trying to be the best the time flies by and the break bell rings loud and noxious.
Everyone drops what their doing and makes a break for the vending machines. Sugar
and greasy junk food wrappers litter the floor in rapid fire. She hangs back waiting
to see if anyone stays behind too. Hoping that she’ll be waiting, knowing that she’s
already out the door laughing and chatting with everyone else. Laughing at her right
now, probably telling everyone how pathetic and desperate she is. A one night science
experiment, a fling. Or maybe just another broken heart..she goes back to work before
everyone else. Not bothering to look up until the bell rings again and it’s time
to leave.

The whole cycle begins again as she heads to the coffee shop where no one knows
her name. Sitting alone, drink her latte and reading about who was killed today.
She says her goodbyes and slips out the door. Heads to the bus climbs the sticky
steps and sits next to a woman who doesn’t even bother to look at her. Doesn’t see
the tears sliding down her cheeks, cutting crystal paths across her skin. Outside
the door to her house she’ll wipe the tears away and hug her husband than make
dinner.

Day after day the same cycle. The same coffee shop, same drink. Ten years down the
road still no one will know her name.

At the counter I order two muffins and a coffee, black. Carefully I balance the
plate and mug as I walk over to her chair and sit down next to her. “Hello. My names
Jen, what’s yours?”

“Sonya..”

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others