I drove down Main street with my windows down, allowing the balmy summer breeze whip my hair into a frenzy. I pulled into a parking space and made my way to the front entrance of my favorite coffee shop.
The floorboards creaked as I entered. Aromas of espresso, tangerine, lavender, and honey filled the air. I found a spot nestled in the corner near a once-vibrant book case. I plugged all of my electronics into the necessary slots and opened my computer to begin to write.
Before I could even connect to the wifi, I heard your loud voices carry across the room.
Your dark curls bounced as you twiddled your coffee mug and made idle conversation across the table about how you’d arrange your crystals in your new apartment. Your friend with the short auburn hair was quick with her response: “Do you believe in all that crystal stuff?”
You responded quickly, knowing your true motive. “Oh no, of course not, I just think it will be cute.” My eye began to twitch as my wifi connection finally went through.
My already grumpy mood turned me into level-seven grumpy as my freshly shaven legs began to grow some leg hair back. The room became quiet and my thoughts were able to surface. A moment of peace, at last, to write a nonsense piece about my dog being mad at me.
Your booming voice was heard, once again, as a new conversation about the greatest movies to hook up to began. Your friend adjacent to you with wispy, golden bangs recalled her latest hook up with her boyfriend. “We were watching a documentary about a cult and we started hooking up to it. It was weird. 10/10 would do again.”
Your spiky-haired friend chimed in saying, “Oh yeah, I almost hooked up to the movie Trolls but her mom walked in.”
The random conversations continued as I prayed to the coffee gods that your voices would become as silent as a library. I think I prayed to the wrong one because your voices became as loud as the screams on the first drop of a roller coaster. Unable to contain your excitement, your curls bounced higher and higher as your hands slammed the table; making your rings sound like tiny fire crackers exploding.
My attempt to calm myself down with writing and a fancy latte had failed.
Much to my surprise, the voices that were once dying to escape were now mere nods. The half eaten muffin in front of your spiky-haired friend was now a pile of crumbs on the table’s surface. One left for the bathroom while the other collected her things.
Your Island of Misfit Toys finally paraded out of the room, and through the door. I silently cheered as I almost spilled my precious latte all over the Aztec rug below me.
I glance at my computer screen to finally begin writing and found this ode already written.
Oh… I guess I should thank you then?
Thank you, Coffee Shop Assholes, for giving me inspiration and for continuing to fuel my hatred for any and all people.