Dear You

Samantha Warrington
August 24,2013
Home room
Dear You  

| "yes, please" |  

Despite the customer in front of him, his eyes stays on the empty seat located in the far back, near the window. It belongs to her, and only her.  

    The customer's eyes narrow into a glare, hands clutching the designated coffee cup tightly. The woman is all about to report him when she pauses, waits for five seconds, and stares at the place where he's been so focused on. Confusion colors her face and she wonders, What's so special about that seat?  

    A quick glance at her watch and a frown is at her face. She doesn't have time for an idiot barista like him. Her throat clears in annoyance.  

    Finally, he notices her. His face splits into a fake smile, and begins to recite the speech he's memorized by heart: "Hello, how are you doing today?" and receives a curt nod as an answer. "May I take your order?" He checks what she's holding, a mocha Frappuccino, and quickly tallies it. "That'll be $5.65."  

    Seconds tick by as the woman rummages through her wallet. Seconds he uses to peek over at the seat. Nothing. There's no sign of her long, dark wavy hair or the brown tote that's practically attached on her shoulder.  

    The customer's throat clears again, this time noticeably louder; she's been holding her credit card for too long now. He offers a small, embarrassed smile at the woman, and makes a show of totaling the money quickly. In a few seconds, the woman is gone with her coffee in hand, and he's back staring at the seat.  

    He barely notices when there's a new customer - a middle-aged man this time - in front of him. The same ordeal happens again. And again. And again. By his fourth customer, his hope begins to thin out, and he's convinced he won't get to see her beautiful face today.  

    He hears a small noise in front of him - the sound of squeaky shoes - that signals the sound of yet another customer.  

    "Hello, May I...