Small Cafe

By jasonwhitaker29171 on August 13, 2020

For The first time in my life I notice the things that were meaningless all of my life. The small things. The things taken for granted. I see the people walk to their cars. This small cafe is busy considering it is a small cafe off the freeway. It’s not just off the freeway but I had to drive down several small roads to get to this small cafe. I do not remember how I heard about this cafe but apparently it is well spoken of.

I can smell the food being eaten by the people around me making it more difficult to choose my meal. I could ask the waiter what their most popular meal is or what their favorite is but I’m not interested in what’s popular.

It’s warm inside. Outside it’s freezing. Outside I stood waiting for him to show up. I thought he would appear and we would do what we normally do when we meet. I told him to meet me outside of this small cafe because deep down inside of me is forever the notion that he will not show up someday. Today was that someday.

I begin to dream of our times together when the older man behind me drops a soon before falling out of his chair dead. I assume he’s dead when They take him away with the white sheet covering his face. For a moment I think of something I often think of while waiting for him. I imagine the two of us growing old together. The two of us sharing more than a bed and an hour or so once every month or so.

I never told him about how I feel. While I was with him I tried to enjoy our limited time together. I wonder, now that I have been here for several hours, if he was merely in my life for the sex. I like the sex. It’s great. I just want more. Maybe, what I want is more than what he could offer.

I eat my dinner slowly as to postpone my departure. I could have left after the first hour of waiting. I could have left after my first cup of coffee. I remained because I had hope that the last time we were together would not be the last time we’d ever be together.

The empty plate reminds me that nothing is forever. What we had was not meant to be more than what it was and now it has become something else. A memory. A time in my life to look back upon. Even there sitting in a small cafe, I heard so much about from some forgotten source, I recall those times we spent in various beds. What I will miss the most are those brief moments of being held afterwards and hearing his breath in the silence of the night. What for me were moments of falling in love were only moments of rest between other moments.

As I walk to my car I think of life and death. I think of this place being the beginning of something new after something else has come to and end.

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