She was beautiful just sitting there in the coffee shop her long hair surrounding her like a shield.
Silver laptop open and purple headphones that covered her ears she never looked directly towards me but I felt comfort when she was near.
I, sitting on the other end of the shop, am working on a never ending spreadsheet.
It takes hours and hours of data that I can only explain over a large cup of coffee and an enormous amount of sugar and cream.
She however does not seem to be as stressed as the rest of us here working and seems to be unphased by our presence.
No, she is always typing quietly, listening to something- maybe a response? And then writing notes in a notebook feverishly. Her eyes never look up towards me they stay locked onto the screen or her notes.
Every now and then I look up and see her smile, its soft and small not a large smile that takes up your entire face just something that is so brief if I hadn’t been watching I would have missed it.
I prefer to work here instead of home because of the bustle and human interaction. It takes me out of the day to day loneliness I used to feel. My mornings used to consist of waking up, making breakfast and coffee, and not looking away from the screen until the night sky was twinkling through my closed window shades. Coffee having grown cold and the breakfast now stacked with other plates I would need to wash before sluggishly making my way to shower and bed.
Now there is a better sense of time. A shuffle of noise when laptops close and people start packing up to leave. The scenic view of the snow falling lightly out the window and the strange peace about working with strangers I am not forced to interact with.
One day I walked in and she was there as if she always had been. As if that spot was her spot. Regretfully, I’ve never really seen when she comes in because she is always here before I am and I leave long before she does. When others are packing to go she seems to be in a stream of typing like she is racing to an unknown finish line. Focused and poised for battle with her keyboard.
I’ve grown accustomed to seeing my companion, who I do not know, every day.
Today is the same as any other the sun shines through the faded art on the window and her laptop is open in front of her. She is smirking at the screen almost as if she wants to say something out loud but refrains.
And for the first time I think to myself, I wish she was smiling at me.
Well as office crushes go she is my first but this isn’t an office and I don’t know her.
I get up to throw my half drunk but bitterly cold drink away and glance over my shoulder to decide if I am brave enough to speak to her and introduce myself. Turns out I’m not.
I turn over all the scenarios in my head and my palms begin to sweat as I try and finish my data entry. Finally I scribble a note on a napkin with just a Hey! I add my name and number with a short message that asks if she wants to maybe get coffee together someday.
My boldness however ended there. Sweat building in my hair I finish my work quickly and wait until she gets up to order something at the register so that I can scurry past and lay the letter napkin on her notebook. Then I walk out the door trying to not be noticed.
The bus stop unfortunately is right in front of the large coffee shop windows and I can still see her if I sit a bit to the left and peer over my shoulder just a bit. I can hear the bus coming down the snow filled streets and I take a deep breath and look back at the coffee shop while I shift my bag onto my shoulder. Sadly, I see her put her coffee cup onto the napkin. My heart sinking into my chest, I shrug to myself and think, oh well I guess notes and napkins aren’t the right way.
I can’t lie I’m a bit hurt as I board the warm bus but I have to remember that sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to. Especially when I waited so long to even try and know her. Somewhere inside my mind though I wonder if she’s noticed me sitting across the room too. A glimmer of hope emerging in my heart that I wish I could shatter.
Ping!
I hear my phone go off and for a moment I think it may be her, or I hope it is. However, it’s far more likely to be my boss. Trying to get more of an explanation on data I’ve already thoroughly explained and reviewed. I sigh and decide to wait on checking my phone because it is somewhere deep in my bag and I have no desire to look at another spreadsheet today or to take off my thick gloves just to open the phone and close it again. That can all wait until I get home.
The snow is turning to slush under everyone’s boots as I walk gingerly up the cement stairs that lead to my home. The warm light from my lamp illuminates my hallway as I slide out of my wet outer clothes. Shivering from the feel of the jacket’s fabric against my now bare hands.
My sweet kitten has perched herself onto the couch and is waiting for me there to hold her and remind her she has been missed. I rush to her just as I hear another,
Ping!
“Oh I forgot to check that.” I say as I scrunch her tiny face up in my hands and then set her down so I can go empty my work bag.
A message from my boss glows in red asking for an update on the spreadsheet that I just sent. I send a shorter version of my review and tell them that we’ll discuss tomorrow. It has been a long day and I am in no mood for a late video chat to discuss the same data I just spent hours pouring over. I can stay home and video them first thing in the morning. Tossing my phone on the couch next to me I lean over to play with my kitten whose managed to find her way to the floor.
Ping!
“Ugh not again.” I say as I’m leaned over the couch teasing her with her favorite feathered toy.
“Come here little one.” I say as I pick up her up and hold her next to my chest.
That’s weird a number.
Probably spam, I think as I unlock my phone to read it, a tiny glimmer of hope spreading in my heart. I attempt to shove it down just as quickly as it attempts to bloom.
The message read, “Hey, you left your number on a napkin on my notes…”
Bubbles pop up and I anxiously wait wondering if I should type anything back… maybe not just yet. The message continues, “I accidentally put my drink on it and couldn’t make out your name…”
More bubbles and hope flittering around my heart,
“Hi. If this is who I hope this is…”
Bubbles, I hold my breath…
“The girl sitting across the coffee shop from me every day.”
My heart feels like it will burst from my chest…
Bubbles… I can’t contain my excitement I’m smiling from ear to ear. Is this really happening does she know who I am?
“Is this the girl with the yellowish laptop?” The last message reads.
My heart sinks, my laptop is green.
Poetry With Me 
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