|
Rafters
|
2
|
| |
| |
|
|
Wrapped around him was his token long black jacket, with striped socks at
his ankles and a scarf scuttling his neck, completely white with only a
circle drawn at the end, with a dot in the middle. I never really cared
enough to know what it meant.
I sipped away at my coffee, an absolutely despicable drink. Even to this
day I gag at the mere mention of crushed beans liquefied to twice room
temperature. Of course, I thought differently then.
Over by the kitchen the bartender Kent was talking to an obviously
disgruntled employee. The waiter had blond hair and thick black glasses.
His apron was spotless, which struck me as odd, for the restaurant was
about as pitiful as possible, and still able enough to pass any sanitation
laws. Kent and I never really got along. The first time I had ever
stepped foot inside the place he began to hassle me. Incessant and
relentless he was. I never really knew him well enough to dislike him.
"Hey buddy, you got a problem?" he snared.
I suddenly realized I had been staring.
"Sorry."
You'd think that after probably funding his college trust funds (for those
lucky wife and kids) the guy could at least learn your name. Whatever.
I went to sip my coffee again as I glanced back in front of me. Brian was
fiddling with something new he had found in one of his pockets-a common
treasure often dug up, when I saw behind him, a new busboy. Rather, this
boy was a girl. She bused with a fervor and a gleeful delight, amidst the
obvious gloom subjected by "The Blank Envelope" to all its employees. She
looked up at last, as my curiosity had just about done me in, and it was
as if then I had witnessed a handshake with heaven.
Her face was smudged with a bit of coffee bean, I believe it was. That
tint matched the dark brown hair falling lightly from beyond her
shoulders. She smiled lightly and walked back to the kitchen. Held in
one hand was a tray of dirty plates and dishes, and in the other, she
carried her dress, gracefully, making sure it didn't touch the ground.
"Hey Si-whoa, you ok? Don't have a conniption on me here tough guy",
Brian spat.
"Sorry. In one of those dazes where your eyes don't really focus in on
anything, they just sort of stare off into space."
"Alright well you have fun with your space and I'm gonna head out. I'll
call you tonight."
I don't remember really saying goodbye to my friend. It didn't really
matter at the time. The idea of falling in love upon seeing someone for
the first time had always been such a completely fake thing. I thought it
was only something sung about in Beatles songs. Beatles songs sung by
Ringo, no less. To be honest, I didn't know if I was in love at that
moment, though perhaps in utter admiration. I convinced myself that I had
just witnessed true beauty. True beauty, absolutely divine in every angle
and curve. And on that note, I got up from my chair, left a tip on the
table and walked out into the street. The sky was grey, a hopeless void
of color.
|
| |
| |
| |
| |
|
3