Coffee fix

Starter written for a friend.

The coffee tasted like freedom �" Claude wanted to drink it all in one sip but it… it was too hot, too fresh to be wasted so quickly, bitterness serving as a warning despite the smell that planted the temptation through his whole being. Now and then he would throw glances to the back of the place, just to make sure, and catch glimpses of laughing talking figures in return. At least that’s what most of the crowd was; a messy mosaic of laughter and chatter, peaceful souls only a detail to keep the composition right. By the table in the corner, showered by shadows and some runaway smoke of an electronic cigarette, was sat Mathias. The mass of pride, testosterone, and dark hair almost making him blind, was Claude’s good old person to avoid, and no less than his guard now on the grounds. He was a story to himself, a year older than the blond boy, and a Senior at his school, given a task to watch over the little delinquent. Knowing Claude wasn’t in a situation to do much more than maybe spill some coffee, steal a wallet for extra kicks and perhaps run through the door, Mathias didn’t take long to find another kind of occupation, whole new little thing to watch and observe. The young man’s hand was trapped within the web of a giggling redhead’s hair that probably smelled as good as the e-cigarette in her manicured hand �" it was cherry, or something else equally sweet that would’ve provoked envy in Claude if he hadn’t had already sank down his seat, a wide grin slapped to his face, mentally fist bumping himself even though there were no great plans on his mind. He was tired of being monitored in any way. Even the smallest things feel better knowing no unwanted eyes are on you.

Sketchbook was spread on the table right beside the steamy mug. Virgin pure paper in front of him, waiting to be touched, kissed with colors, or whispered to. The boy’s eyes, however, now seemed to be glued to the window. The rain made strangers behave like rats, hurrying into anything that had a roof. Still, he wasn’t much different from the people on the other side of the glass: his hair was fixed with a rushed fingers’ walk through it, with a touch of the rain from the outside that matched his soaked clothes perfectly. He became well aware he didn’t own the table when he saw everyone putting their bottoms anywhere to get a chance for a warm tea, or a temporary dry shelter. Finally he took the first sip, letting it free through the cells longing for caffeine long enough for it to be a sin, hands resting down after his did so. The pages remained empty, similar to his look focused on the world while he was going through the shelves of his own universe, deciding what mood dress the paper with, what thought would go with it.

Reviews

[Mayank]

Woo!! This description of coffee and observing everything around was simply engulfing. This is what to most of mine, I sit with my coffee and cigarette and just stare at the world. Making various chapters in my head. Good stuff, man.