The Coffee Shop

A short story. (listening to: "The Next Ten Minutes" from The Last 5 Years Soundtrack)

He stood outside the door staring at his reflection in the glass. He willed his hand to the handle, but it remained stubbornly at his side. A clutch gathered at his throat, and he swallowed it down. He could feel his heart beating slow and hard at every extremity in his body. He inhaled sharply and held it, gathering every fiber of his being to chill the fuck out. As he began to slowly exhale, a woman came up from behind him, opened the door and held it open for Him to enter. He stared at her, hating her more than anything else in his world at that moment. He forced a small smile and walked inside, legs numb to any feeling of motion.

Cruelly, the small shop was nearly empty. No place to hide, no crowd to get lost in. He spotted Her right away, of course. She sat near a far window, hair lit up by the cold sunlight pouring in, God's follow spot focused tightly on His star performer. He immediately thought to turn and run, to claim car trouble, or some other emergency. His mind was willing, but His body was weak and didn't heed the call. It was too late anyway, She had looked up and seen Him.

A weak smile came forcibly to Her face and He nodded slightly to Her. She wasn't more than a few dozen feet away, but every step felt like a mile. Like opposing magnets, the closer He got, the harder it was to continue. Her gaze never faltered from Him, and it seemed to freeze on Her face as though a great effort of will was being made to maintain the upward turn of Her lips. Finally, mercifully, His journey was over and He pulled a chair out to sit down on. Gingerly He placed himself down, and set an envelope on the table between them. A moment of silence that was just a breath too long passed between them.

"Hi." She said.
"Hi." Again, a too-long pause.
"How are you?"
"Fine."
"Good."
"You?"
"Fine."
"Good."

His eyes screamed at her. Don't do this. Say something important. Tell me to stay. Tell me you're sad. Angry. Feel Something. Please. Please. Please. But nothing. He sighed heavily and pushed the envelope across the table. The flap fell open revealing papers folded back upon themselves, and a few bursts of color- pictures of better times.

"I figured you would want these." He had to concentrate very hard to pull His hand away.
"Oh. Thank you." She took it off the table and placed it without even so much as a glance to its contents into her bag. As the envelope gained distance from Him, He felt a tearing sensation. Hundreds of tiny threads were being pulled and broken, their tails whipping Him in the face, arms, chest, belly, groin, legs, feet...
"Did you want something?" Her question slammed Him in the center of His trunk. Yes, God, I want something. I want you. I want to go back to when-- He looked up at her and she was gazing towards the counter. Oh.
"No. I'm... I'm fine."
"Ok."

Another too-long pause. She made a motion. No...

"Well, I have to go."
"Already? I just-"
"I know, but I can't.. I have to be somewhere."
"Oh. Alright. Well, when will I see you again."
A look. An opportunity. Too late. Gone.
"I don't know. I'll call you."
"Ok."
Another look. Another opportunity. Too late. Gone. She stepped past Him, hesitated and turned around. She stepped close to Him and looked up in His eyes.

[goodbye]
[pleasedontgo]
[ihaveto]
[youdonthaveto]
[ineedto]
[iloveyou]
[pleasedontsaythat]
[imeanitiloveyou]
[youdontyoucantyoudontknowwhatthatmeans]
[ifeelithereandnow]
[youonlythinkyoudo]
[no]
[goodbye]

The look fell away and she turned and left. Her steps quick and unsure, like a run, but lost in the motion. He didn't know how, but He was sitting again. Within a moment, His world clouded up like He was looking through thick glass. Shapes became only vague colors around Him, and He felt the drops on His hands.

"Goodbye."

END TRANSMISSION...