You can hear a slight ‘ding’ whenever the door opens as patrons come and go. The heavy door shuts with ease. Placing your order comes next. Whether it’s as simple as earl grey tea or as complicated as a tall, non-fat double latte - no foam - you’re met with warm smiles and pleasantries.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee permeates the air. The sweet fragrance of vanilla and cinnamon float above the glass encased counter filled with sugary treats that tantalize taste buds. It feels like you’re gaining pound upon pound just looking at the goodies. Almost reluctantly, the man ahead of me asks for one chocolate chunk cookie.
Perfection on a plate, the cookie is thick and bursts with rigged hunks of dark chocolate. Wide-eyed, I decline the need for food and order my usual cup of tea.
Picking up the brown paper cup with the cardboard sleeve hugging the outside and knowing what lies ahead, is euphoric in itself. A moment to not worry about classes, meetings or relationship troubles is what I came here for and that is exactly what I’m getting.
The plush chair swallows me. The circular table planted next to me, where I place my moment of sanity, is taller than the chair and I feel like I’m in a miniature house - miniature, but familiar. The walls are drenched in shades of mahogany and burgundy. The lavish oasis where my body sits, matches the interior in its deep brown leather.
I place the warm cup of soothing hot tea next to my pursed lips and savour the sweet taste of orange pekoe.
I recognize the man next to me as a regular. He likes to draw. His old suit is the only thing I have ever seen him in. The material resembles grey tweed but I’m no fashion guru and have no idea what the suit is actually made of. His head bobs through my peripheral vision in his attempt to remain inconspicuous as he draws a woman sitting across the room. The paper he uses has yellowed and the spirals of his notebook are bent from the pressure of being pushed, squashed and squeezed, into his torn messenger bag.
The only other person I recognize is the “techi” as I like to call him. He’s always wired to some type of machine. Today, it’s his ipod, a rectangular music box full of endless possibilities. His trendy white earbuds are tangled around his oversized blackberry as he plays games, texts friends and checks messages.
I can’t really point fingers though; I have my own cell phone close by. However, it’s my book that I’m concentrating on, the corners of which are slightly crinkled from being carried around so often. For now though, I’m content taking in the locals as we all take a little “me” time on a Sunday afternoon, in my favourite coffee shop.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee permeates the air. The sweet fragrance of vanilla and cinnamon float above the glass encased counter filled with sugary treats that tantalize taste buds. It feels like you’re gaining pound upon pound just looking at the goodies. Almost reluctantly, the man ahead of me asks for one chocolate chunk cookie.
Perfection on a plate, the cookie is thick and bursts with rigged hunks of dark chocolate. Wide-eyed, I decline the need for food and order my usual cup of tea.
Picking up the brown paper cup with the cardboard sleeve hugging the outside and knowing what lies ahead, is euphoric in itself. A moment to not worry about classes, meetings or relationship troubles is what I came here for and that is exactly what I’m getting.
The plush chair swallows me. The circular table planted next to me, where I place my moment of sanity, is taller than the chair and I feel like I’m in a miniature house - miniature, but familiar. The walls are drenched in shades of mahogany and burgundy. The lavish oasis where my body sits, matches the interior in its deep brown leather.
I place the warm cup of soothing hot tea next to my pursed lips and savour the sweet taste of orange pekoe.
I recognize the man next to me as a regular. He likes to draw. His old suit is the only thing I have ever seen him in. The material resembles grey tweed but I’m no fashion guru and have no idea what the suit is actually made of. His head bobs through my peripheral vision in his attempt to remain inconspicuous as he draws a woman sitting across the room. The paper he uses has yellowed and the spirals of his notebook are bent from the pressure of being pushed, squashed and squeezed, into his torn messenger bag.
The only other person I recognize is the “techi” as I like to call him. He’s always wired to some type of machine. Today, it’s his ipod, a rectangular music box full of endless possibilities. His trendy white earbuds are tangled around his oversized blackberry as he plays games, texts friends and checks messages.
I can’t really point fingers though; I have my own cell phone close by. However, it’s my book that I’m concentrating on, the corners of which are slightly crinkled from being carried around so often. For now though, I’m content taking in the locals as we all take a little “me” time on a Sunday afternoon, in my favourite coffee shop.
No comments:
Post a Comment