He stared out the window of his favorite independent coffee shop at the hustle and bustle of the mid morning rush. “Who are these people,” he wondered as he sipped black coffee from a stained porcelain Floyd’s mug, “and why are they in such a hurry?” He pondered this for a moment as his eyes darted from street, to the cutie pixie barista, to the op-ed section of the paper, back to the street. All the dark colors, the neutral blacks and grays of downtown on a work day. So severe. Could these people possibly be happy with the lives they’ve created for themselves?
A flash of blue in a sea of drab caught his eye, a youngish business woman crossed in front of his plate glass window. Perhaps she felt his stare because she turned and for a second they locked eyes. Bright blue eyes to match her bright blue shirt, she gave him a hint of a smile before turning and continuing on her way. He took another sip of coffee and wondered about those eyes. Such bright blue eyes, so full of promise, so full of life. Eyes that enjoyed themselves. He smiled at the idea.
An article about the current smoking ban failed to hold his attention, and soon he was staring out the window again. An overcast day, a chance of rain this afternoon; even the weather was leaning toward the drab and the severe, he felt conspired against. Suddenly, a splash of red entered his scene, as a young lady with arms full of books stumbled into the shop. A red rain jacket to go with her flaming red hair, she almost tripped on the entry, but caught herself. She looked up at him and smiled, embarrassed. Sparkling green eyes lingered for just a moment, taking him in, and then off to the counter to order her mocha or latte or chai tea, whatever it is that green eyed student types were drinking these days.
He frowned and suddenly felt rather old. His birthday was fast approaching, and he felt it best to get out of town. He didn’t want to deal with it this year. He buried his face in the paper, though he soon felt the burning gaze from the sidewalk outside his plate glass comfort zone. She was youngish, younger than him at least; dark hair and dark eyes peering through the glass at the coffee shop’s drink menu board. She didn’t even realize he was there, though only feet away. He looked at her eyes. Soft and sincere, the kind of eyes worth falling in love with, the kind worth changing his life over. He was about to wave, to catch her attention, to smile, to fall in love…when she turned and continued on her way. His shoulders slumped.
Behind him, the cutie pixie barista watched the whole thing unfold. She felt sorry him, for the boy with sad eyes who came to her shop everyday to stare at the world as it passed him by.