there’s a girl i know. she sits at the end of the table in the coffee shop all by herself. i’ve never spoken to her, but she’s the most interesting person i’ve ever encountered. she sits there with her music blasting her ear drums, unable to hear the regular coffee shop madness happening around her. she’ll glance up and notice it, but she chooses not to actually see it. she’s in her own little world, and she liked it that way. she’ll sit in her chair at the end of the table in the coffee shop for as long as you’ll let her, flipping the pages of her favorite book or creating sparks with weapon of choice, the pen. she’s in her place where she feels secure in her chair at the end of the table in the coffee shop. every season she’ll be there. the dead of winter brings black rimmed glasses, flannel shirts, ripped jeans, and combat boots. rugged, yet suitable. her sweater weather drink is a medium hot peppermint mocha with an extra shot of espresso, normally with a wedge of cheesecake or a cinnamon pastry. as winter comes to an end and spring begins to bloom, she emerges out of the tiny cocoon she’s put herself in for the winter and flies into the world like a beautiful butterfly. when the sun is out, she’s shedding her own light on all the regulars in the coffee shop. she might not be talking to them, but she’s enchanting them in her own special way in her chair at the end of the table in the coffee shop. she has the most mesmerizing eyes, from what i’ve seen of her. her eyes can pierce you right through your flesh, creep into your bones, and go straight through your heart like an arrow at it’s terminal velocity. with those eyes, without fatality, she scans the room, her favorite book, her chipping nail polish, her clothing, which has now become high waisted shorts she made out of a pair of her dad’s old jeans, a black t-shirt, and a pair of black converse sneakers. simple, yet lovely. her drink has gone from a medium hot peppermint mocha with an extra shot of espresso to a medium iced green tea with a squeeze of lemon and a drop of organic honey, nothing extra to go along with it. her skin is sun kissed, and her lips are cherry red. her eyebrows are arched just high enough above her black framed glasses, and freckles spotting her tiny nose. her hair is bouncy black curls, sometimes ******* in a messy bun or left down naturally. her music varied with the seasons, as well. the sweater weather brought muse and two door cinema club. bikini season brought the wombats or the arctic monkeys. i knew what music she listens to because she blares it so loudly against the brick walls of the coffee shop. she probably thinks she’s doing us a favor. all of these attributes go into making this girl the most intricate girl i’ve ever come across in this small town coffee shop. i don’t know much about this girl. i wish i knew a little bit more. i wonder what her name is, who her friends are and why they’re never there with her, if she has any cats, what dressing she puts on her salad, how many times a day she brushes her teeth, if she prefers pen or pencil, what kind of sushi she likes, or what kind of shampoo she uses. i wish i knew every single detail of this girl, but i do know a few things for certain. she’s the seasons. she changes her appearance and her mysterious attitude towards everything outside her little world. her drink and her music change, too. the only thing that still remains the same through all of the changes is her spot in the chair at the end of the table in the coffee shop.
until the day i said hello.