Coffee in the City

Photo by Ian Taylor on Unsplash

The tables were half full on this rare summer morning in the city. It was cool and clear, but the air warned of a hot and sweltering day to come. My coffee was black and I sipped it waiting for my croissant to show up, all from a wobbly chair and table.

I’ve always come to this coffee place when I’m in the city. People streamed past each other on the sidewalk, oblivious to me and my coffee. My croissant showed up the same time as he did, a typical New York City hipster with his EarPods, skinny blue jeans, and groomed beard.

He was everything I hated about men from his generation, a typical douche bag.

He stared at his phone, swiping right and left with his thumb, unaware of the activity around him when she showed up. She caught my eye as every woman does. She wore a yellow summer dress with small red roses printed on it. She had many tattoos on her right arm and her long auburn hair hung over her shoulders. There were no pleasantries, no kiss, only awkwardness.

They started to argue. I could make out bits and pieces of the violent epitaphs they hurled at each other. This was a standard lover’s quarrel.

The fight ended as it began, suddenly and abruptly. She raised both hands with middle fingers extended and thrust them violently at him, turned and walked away. He looked unfazed by all this and walked into my coffee shop.

I wondered about what had unfolded before me. Two young lovers in the heart of a city, coming together and tearing apart. My guess was they met on a phone app or at a roof top party. Him trying to impress her with witty lines and his style, and she being coquettish but signaling her receptiveness.

How they ended up together was a mystery to me, the question that gnawed at me was why?

Was this a simple hookup, a way for both of them to scratch that itch? Or was this something more? Where and when did it go wrong? Did he miss a date? Did she say a careless word?

Tis a shame, I thought.

I never did see them again, but I wished happy endings for them both as I shoved the last bit of croissant in my mouth and went to work.

Love and sex are both strange allies and enemies, too bad you don’t know which side you’re on.

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