12.4.06
Writing and Lit III
Extra Credit

                                                 Black Coffee

I drink black coffee to impress people. No cream. No sugar. Black. Despite the bitter taste it warms me to the bone.

A young couple bundled up in warm coats walk past the diner’s dirty window streaked with finger prints and lies. The guy has his arm wrapped around the girl for extra warmth. The heat of their breath mixes with the cold air and forms a cloud in front of their faces as they laugh. I lean back and slouch a little bit. The booth makes a squeaking sound under my movement.

The smoke from the two men smoking behind me makes my eyes water. I visualize it billowing from their mouths like chimneys as they continue to guffaw. The man with the deeper voice asks for the check. I know they will leave soon and my eyes will stop watering.

At a table to the front and left of me sits a girl and a man who appears to be her father. They do not speak. Silence. The man is reading a newspaper and does not notice the deep scratches on the girl’s arm as she reaches for the ketchup. I wonder how she feels at night when the lights go out. How long she has been concealing her secret with long sleeves. I remember how it feels to shut my thoughts up with a knife.

My mind continues to wander...

I really ruined it with him. The first guy to treat me well and I fucked up.

Am I going to be alone forever? Probably. I’ll be a cat lady who saves her fingernail clippings in a jar. 

Can’t wait until Christmas is over. I need a new job. 

Milk! Shit. Don’t forget the milk on the way home this time...

I am jarred out of my ponderous state to a cacophony of noise outside. Someone cut off someone else. Tire screeches, honking horns, and profanity ensued. No one is hurt but people drive away angry. I am glad I am inside where it’s warm.

The sun is beginning to set even though it’s early. The light comes through the window and cascades onto my table hitting the tops of the salt and pepper shakers. It passes through the blue, pink, and yellow packets of fake sugar letting them become illuminated like leaves on a tree. The sky is turning colors that look too beautiful to be real. I watch the sun set. The sky transforms in stages, all equally vivid and striking. The noise around me has evaporated and I do not change my gaze until the sky is dark.

Head lights and a neon sign for a Laundromat across the street catch my eye. I watch the few people in the Laundromat. A young and very pretty girl wearing customary summer attire is haphazardly shoving clothes in a large washer. Jean skirt and a double layered tank top. Grey over hot pink. Her thin black bra strap is sticking out on the left side. I hope she is wearing this because all of her warm clothes are being washed. She looks too pretty to be able to know how to read-skating through life on her looks alone. (Everyone does everything for her, yet not her laundry.) My suspicions are confirmed when she sits down on her fur coat on the unstable bench. There is a myriad of magazines resting neatly on the windowsill behind her. The kind with celebrity’s faces plastered all over. She doesn't even pick one up. She just sits there picking at her hand.

I look past her and become hypnotized by the kaleidoscope tumbling around in the machine. I am too far away to distinguish any particular articles of clothing but every once in awhile, as the clothes tumble from the top across the glass porthole, I see colors and patterns. Polka-dots. Lime green. Blue. Stripes. Red. I stare at the clothes, hypnotized. What would it be like to be in there violently thrown around in a tangle of chaos drowning in water and bubbles?

I continue to watch the hustle and bustle of my surroundings. I am on my third cup of coffee and am beginning to feel restless. I see the waitress and wave her over with an over caffeinated, shakey hand. She waddles to my table with a certain speed. Her hair is mostly grey in a tangle of matted curls around her pudgy face and eyebrows that have become one. She asks me if I would like anything else. I notice the gap in her teeth as she speaks. Her southern accent is sweet. The words drip from her tongue with such earnestness that I can’t help but smile. I ask for the check.

I leave a tip bigger than the bill, stand up, and gather my things. Inhaling deeply on the way out, my nose is filled with the sticky scents of a hole-in-the-wall diner. Syrup. Smoke. Bacon. Coffee. I made the mistake of not zipping up my coat before I walked outside. The cold penetrated through my sweater and stung my skin. The warmth of those three bitter cups of coffee has been wasted.

I forget exactly what the assignment was for this other than extra credit. I came across it recently and decided to try and spruce it up a bit for shits and giggles. It still needs a lot of work thus the reason I am posting it here! So, if you feel like it..have fun!