Looking down from the surrounding mountains, a small city is seen in the center of flatlands.  Patches of forest became dense toward the outskirts of clustered towers and shacks, leaving their shadowed lines to cut the architecture while the sun circled low on the horizon.  With the muzzle of trees, the chaotic pitches of nature and man was contained in a rather expansive circle with a dense center of glass towers overlooking the depths below.  While this area is seen from atop those peaks, said eyes are lost in pockets hidden from the skies – stray steps stumble into deep shrouds hidden below.  With a gleam of the rising sun, the towers shine through thin curtains; the city wakes. 

 —

Cold morning air, with a touch of fog lingering in the streets, greeted those eager to leave the confines of home, whom strode to that café near the center of the mirrored towers – eyes covered to negate that overwhelming sun.  Few owners to those steps of the early hour gracefully walked past the known café and enjoyed vacant streets that had yet to be fully consumed by feet rushed by a late sleep.  Of the calm steps, there was a pair owned by him, the he of himself, which lingered around the warm café, eager to catch glimpse of the staff on-hand – a blond would hope to be found.  His pace wore through the snow, leaving a quarter-circle of exposed brick which lay around the covered porch.  With a final exhale, he followed a body inside, barely catching the door without a stumble.  The cadence of their urgent morning shot through his ears and widened his eyes; his breath became short.  The shuffle of the queue, which immediately echoed behind him, was precise and timed, giving him little time to think through the noise.  The words on the chalk boards above the counter were faded, leaving him to decide on  

“Coffee, black.” 

which she had quickly inputted into her register.  She blushed at his anxious words, and awkward pose, as he fumbled for payment.  She welcomed that extra length of time he unknowingly created, which gave her another moment to admire his shy eyes.  His mumble she assumed was a gracious statement, one that suggested thanks for her patience.  Her smile radiated a warmth 

that he would feel for what seemed like eternity.  His coffee had sat at the counter while he replayed their brief moment together – which was interrupted by a stern voice and glaring eyes from an impatient employee, wanting to free that taken space of tepid coffee.  Upon retrieving, he sipped without notice of the stale flavor that had already begun to settle at the bottom of the disposable cup.  Still lost in thought of instant attraction, he glanced toward the register as he settled on a barstool near the window.  The queue had begun to dwindle, with 

three customers left before she could take a short break and hide in the backroom.  The morning rush had ended quickly, leaving her feet sore and voice raspy – a warm tea would help soothe her throat.  She quickly finished concocted her drink and then scurried to the backroom.  Sitting on a worn chair, out of commission from public use due to its poor décor and wobble, she sipped her tea and mindless browsed through her personalized forums on her phone.  She had noticed him when he came in before, with the same awkward posture and speech yet a cute and charming smile – a memory that she gladly remembered.  Their second brief interaction left her with confidence that another would occur, and she revealed a smile in the small, empty room.  She stood up and stretched, then retrieved her tea and returned her eyes to the digital distraction while heading out of the backroom.  Pushing the door open with her back, she turned while sipping the tea and 

her eyes met his, before an instant fall to the ground.  He was one of the few remaining in the café, and seemed to be the only one that noticed the fall.  After a moment of silence, he approached the counter to see her unmoving body, with the essence of tea spread around her body, face down.  He tossed down a few sugar packets,  

few of which landed on her head, bringing her to accept the witness that would likely mock her clumsiness.  Slowly she turned her head, away from the ocean of disaster, and saw him peeking over the tall counters, with a handful of napkins. 

 

He returned to the café a couple hours later, for a shared lunch, and found her waiting inside the entryway dressed for the cold.  They walked down the street, exchanging brief and light conversation, toward one of her regular spots.  Upon arrival, he mentioned his infrequent visits to the restaurant which she reacted with a look of shock followed by playful teasing; she led him inside with urgency.  She ordered the food for him, insisting that this meal would ultimately decide their fate – he grinned at her confidence over such a statement.  Arriving at a booth, sitting across from one another, he patiently awaited the meal that she silently ordered – the employees recognized such a common customer and immediately began preparing their meals.  He was unusually calm given the situation; he preferred to be in control of his life and rejected the unknown, yet he didn’t reject her lead in their time together.  Her index finger calmly tapped on the table as their eyes casually glanced around, avoiding direct eye contact.  The moment was tense, mostly from the unfamiliar feelings dwelling inside, and as he opened his mouth to speak 

their plates were set down in front of them.  She immediately began to eat as he gave a moment to study what laid on his plate – no description – and once again, followed her lead.  The initial bite led to another moment, stopping as he struggled to recognize the various flavors that spread through his mouth.  She smiled at his posed expression, recognized the unfamiliar reaction to such tastes, and giggled with a mouth full of food, almost choking, which broke his trance and allowed him to continue eating.  

 

Their silence continued throughout the meal, and only when they left the building she spoke.  

“I have to go.” 

She said as she quickly started to walk back to work, leaving him stationary outside of the restaurant.  Her steps were brisk and moments later she felt bold and stopped in her tracks – she turned to see him still idle with a look of defeat on his face.  As quick as she left, she returned to him, now with pen in hand, and took his bare hand and wrote 

something which he couldn’t see, as her sleeve covered his view, and only when it was revealed he realized it was her phone number.  He looked up to speak with a wide smile but found that she had already returned to where she previously stopped, but this time she continued forward, into the blinding sun still peaking from the horizon. 

 

Memories