I was sitting in an unnoticed corner of a not-very-popular yet, ‘hyphy’ cafe in San Diego, you-know-where. The furniture was a bit creaky there but the place suited me best: lonely and hidden. The cafe had an Italian name that roughly translated to ‘rainbow’. Though, save for a few designs on the wall and a big advertising banner near the cash counter, the whole café looked pale and colourless. The glass panes showed a mute traffic stricken road that was on the other side, people probably buzzing their vehicle horns, checking their watches and running back home this late in the night. Without the noises, the busy road looked as boring and peaceful as the soundless movies of the early twentieth century. The noises, however, did creep in, every time someone pushed the door to get in or pulled it to get out. The traffic from inside the cafe looked starkly contrasting.
The aroma of coffee, whose flavour I never ever care to recognise, put my thinking on pause. The coffee was placed with a gentle thud on the white, porcelain table before me with a forced Sunday night sleepy smile. Before I even stretched for the coffee, the peace of the place was beginning to break-up.
“What do you mean uncompatible?”, the lad, who looked like he had come straight here after scoring a homerun in a thrilling baseball encounter, yelled at… well… his future ex-girlfriend.
“Ok. Let me say incompatible! Is that any better?”, the girl who looked like a Super Mario doll in an American bar replied quite gently. By then, I had twice tried to move my seating forward, in vain.
“My friend used to say Betty girls are just bitc..”, he paused and rubbed his forehead. He took those ten seconds probably to compose himself and continued politely, “Veronica! We can’t breakup… like… just like that!”
“Oh! Are we breaking up because it sounds cool or”
“Because you thought love was your refrigerator defrost button?”
“Trying to play the smarter one eh? You ain’t got nothing in your head? Hella lot of times I’ve told you! We can’t be together. ONE you aren’t the swagger you think you are TWO”
“You are mentally ill THREE Let’s stop talking about breaking up every week… thrice”
“If you can complete the sentences I start, please fast forward to the part where we say good bye and walk out”
“Then you’ll have to wait till the next week… No… Every next week”
“Where on earth did you learn to annoy people?”
“From a girl who thinks she’s beautiful, gifted and courageous when the best thing she has done anyone was moving out of her parent’s house in Long Ilan”
The girl who looked rather cool and patient all this time secretly searched for something and finally seemed to have found it on my table: the coffee mug.
The lad was licking the coffee on his face within 3 seconds. By then, she had stormed out of the café pretending to be crying. For a second it felt like a sandstorm had just passed over a music concert making howling sounds as it passed over the microphones.
“Great way to skip the billing part, ladies and gentleman” the lad said smiling and continued “Thank God this place doesn’t serve coffee hot!”
Nobody cares these days. I meant… for the privacy and coffee of another individual. They all take it for granted and make it part of the viewer’s fee.
The whole of the attention of the place was on this young lad’s table. The lad did not seem the least embarrassed or shaken. Meanwhile, I had ordered another coffee and specifically asked for it to be hot or else I won’t pay for it (and for the previous one that broke a beautiful couple). The occasional glances decreased exponentially and things were returning to normal, except for the coffee’s smell and stain that remained on his T-Shirt.
The fifteen people in the café after fifteen minutes looked and behaved like nothing had happened. Further ten minutes later, after the lad had washed himself off the coffee and ordered twice for garlic bread and cappuccino, he received a phone call.
The ringtone turned people’s heads towards him. It was Celina Dion’s ‘My Heart Will Go On’ from ‘Titanic’. Not what you set as a general ringtone.
“Veronica! I’m sorry”, he said.
Well I’m sorry tooI made you read this sh*t.
(I’m basically a very low IQ person and have absolutely no creativity to boast of.
Adding to these, this time, the DailPost Challenge was extremely challenging)