PS : To my resting coffee face

I cannot believe that here I am, sitting in a coffee shop armed with a bouquet of fresh roses. I know I look silly. And that I conclude not from merely my own intuition, but from the countless number of stares that random passerby's have been throwing my way.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee beans wafted in the air, but it proved no comfort to me as I felt cold beads of sweat forming on my forehead. This was it. I told myself. This was the day I had prepared myself for. I took a sip from my already tepid cup of coffee. It had been sitting there for a quite a while now but I had just stared at it. As if oblivious to the fact that coffee was intended to be hot in tasted better if I had drank it earlier on. One sip was all it took to bring back all the memories I had created in the four walls, of thus quaint little coffee shop across my pad. I remember that this was the same kind of coffee (tall Espresso Americano), and this was the same table (a two-seater with a small table at the far right of the room) on that day that I had first laid my eyes on her.

It was raining hard that day, roughly six months ago. I was walking home from the office when the weather took a turn for the worse. I had tuned in to the weather report the night before the neglected warning depression in the area, but I neglected the warning, firmly believing that weather reports were wrong seventy-percent of the time, anyway. Yeah, maybe on the other days, and that day was definitely not part of that seventy-percent. I just fucked-up the day at work, and now here I am, soaking wet to my underwear! I had no choice but to run for cover at this coffee shop since it was the nearest place I could run to a the moment lest I brave the rain that poured like crazy. The warmed interior of the coffee shop and the familiar smell of brewing coffee was a welcoming invitation.

I ordered tall cup of Espresso American. And gave a hundred peso bill and took my seat here, in this same table. I looked around to see if there were any familiar faces that could possibly talk to and lament about the day's mishaps; maybe even a bum a cigarette because mine were obviously soaked. There weren't a lot of people there, and none of them were the least bit familiar to me. Crammed in the center room occupying the longest table, were the bunch of five students obviously cramming for their exams. I could see that they had only ordered one soda, maybe only to have the right sit in the coffee shop and stuff whatever knowledge they could in their brains at the time. They were a rowdy bunch and their antics filled the entire room, even competing with the sound of rain pouring on the roof. I started to feel annoyed, I had the shortest temper that day, I could have went home if it wasn't for a stupid rain. But it was then I saw her. Sitting just two tables from the group of students sat the woman who practically changed my life. I must have stared at her for the longest time, but in that moment I didn't hear the rain, I didn't noticed the frantic noise of exam-crazed students. I only noticed her. She was beautiful. She had the eyes of Hazel, a bit petite, and had a short, dark pixie cut hair. She crossed her legs and occasionally tapped on the floor with her left foot as she flipped through the pages of the novel she was so engrossed in. I squinted to see the title of the book she held in her hand, Veronica Decides to Die was written on the cover of the blue paperback novel. I had read that book myself, I had read almost book of Paulo Coelho to be exact and thought that It would make an interesting conversation starter. We could talk about anything from the Alchemist to the Valkyries.

"Her name is Erin"

Suddenly I was pulled out from my momentary trance as the waiter put down my streaming cup of coffee and winked at me.

To be continued....