THE COFFEE SHOP

THE COFFEE SHOP.

The coffee shop was notable in town for serving the best coffee. Wily sat there looking out the window with hazy eyes. Through the window he saw a misty mountain. Down the street he heard sightless cars singing in a hurry.

He returned his eyes back to the coffee shop. There was a menu on the table. He ordered muffins and a cup of coffee. He was served by a blonde girl with ocean eyes. The door opened.  A young lady entered. She was wearing a long, elegant dress. Her benevolent eyes were brown and charming. Her lips were humming.

She was looking for a table but all of them were full. Wily saw her and raised his hand. He invited her to his table. She sat down. “Thank you, the girl said”. “No problem”, Wily replied. There was a brief silence. Wily couldn’t look her in the eyes.

“Uh am… Wily”. “I am Amy”. “Nice to meet you”. “Nice to meet you too said Amy shaking Wily’s hand”. She called the waiter and ordered coffee. “Do you come here often asked Wily, “Not really, but I stop by sometimes”, replied Amy.

“So where do you work”, Wily asked? “At the Beauty Spar in town”, replied Amy.  “And you”? “Oh, I work at the Blue Gallery in town", Wily replied. “Do you like it asked Amy"? “I love it”. "What do you do exactly, are you an artist maybe". “No, I am a cleaner", Wily replied with a voice lower than a whisper. Amy smiled appreciating his honesty.

“I love Van Gough’s paintings”, said Amy. “Really, which one stands out for you”, asked Wily. “Starry Nights” replied Amy. “Oh, that a good one me I would go for The Night Cafe”. “I hate to end our conversation but I have to go”, said Amy. “Ah no problem It was pleasure meeting you Amy, have a good day”. “Likewise Wily”.

Amy left the coffee shop with a big smile. After a wonderful breakfast with Amy, Wily went to the gallery. The gallery was huge with beautiful artworks on the walls. It looked like a museum. He loved working there. The paintings expressed his suppressed feelings. Sometimes he would talk to them.

The day advanced and he went home. Wily lived on a low-rented room in town. The room was small and poorly furnished. He took a shower then warmed his takeaway in the oven. After a few moments his takeaway was warm. He ate it then slipped into his night clothes. On the shelf beside his bed Wily took out a book. He leafed a few pages and fell asleep.

The next morning, he went to the coffee shop. He ordered the usual. Through the window he saw the misty mountain.

He stared at the door with burning eyes. His muffins didn’t taste like yesterday. He didn’t even touch his coffee. He found it hard to leave the coffee shop. Wily looked at the watch and he was ten minutes late for work. With a swift run he left the coffee shop. He got to work. He was slow and clumsy. The paintings didn’t amuse him. The day advanced and he went home.

Wily was a loner. He laughed on his own and cried on his own. He was a complete puzzle. He was puzzled by his sudden mood change. Once he was home Wily had a cold shower then slipped into his night clothes. On the shelf he took out his book. He leafed a few pages then closed it. He tried to sleep but he tossed and turned. He crossed and burned. Amy’s eyes were on his eyes. Her red painted lips were on his lips. Then he fell asleep.

The next morning, he was at the coffee shop. He sat at the same table every day. He could see the misty mountain in the window. He ordered the usual.

The taste of the muffins got worse. He only warmed his hands with the coffee. He looked at the door with burning eyes. He looked at the watch and like yesterday, he was ten minutes late. With a swift run he left the coffee shop. On the street he kept looking. He got to work. There was a new painting at the gallery. The painting had a young man with his heart throbbing on his hand. It was called the Broken Lover.

He stared at the painting with burning eyes. Hours passed as the wind, and he left. He got home and slammed the door. He didn’t shower. He had no appetite. He opened his book. Amy was written on all the sentences, all the commas, similes and she didn’t stop.

His face creased, his eyes were red with rage. With great velocity, he threw the book on the wall. He went to bed. He tossed and turned. He crossed and burned. He woke up and slammed his head on the wall. The blood on the wall painted the room red. Tears were burning his face. He started feeling cold. Then hot. Cold. Then hot. He screamed at the top of his lungs. He undressed and burned his night clothes. With all the pain, and the exhaustion he fell asleep on floor.

He woke up the next morning with a heavy head. He wrapped a bandage around his head. He felt numb. He went to the coffee shop and sat at the same table. He ordered the usual and stared at the misty mountain. He kept staring at it until his black eyes were red. Then the door opened.

A young couple entered the coffee shop. He didn’t see them. “Oh, my God what happened to you Wily”. He didn’t believe his ears.

“Wily can you hear me”. Dumbfounded, “Yes, I can” said Wily. “What happened to your head”, asked Amy with eyes full of concern. “Oh, I fell”. “Are you okay”? “Yeah, I am fine”. “Wily this is my husband Larry, Larry this Wily”.

“Hi” said Larry extending his hand. “Hi” replied Wily without looking up. “Please take a seat” said Wily ignoring Larry’s hand. “My wife told me about you, we will visit the galley this weekend”, said Larry forcing a smile. Wily nodded. They ate breakfast. Once they were done Amy left with her husband.

On the door Amy turned and gave Wily her phone number. “Promise me you will see a doctor today”, said Amy with a stern voice. "I promise", Wily replied. "Take care Wily". "I will". Amy left the coffee shop with a big smile. After a sour breakfast with Amy’s husband Wily went to work. He looked at the new painting on the wall and somehow it consoled him. The day advanced and he went home.

Once he arrived home, he slipped into his night clothes and threw himself to bed. He tossed and turned. Deep in thought.

She’s not mine. She’s not mine. She’s married, probably has kids. She’s happily married. Don’t ruin it for her. He gave up talking to himself and texted Amy: Can we meet tomorrow then hesitantly he pressed send. A few moments later Amy replied: Sure when? 8AM sharp at the coffee shop. Okay, have a good night: Amy sent a voice note. Her voice made him fall asleep.

The next morning, he went to the coffee shop. He sat at the same table and ordered the usual. He stared at the misty mountain with burning eyes. Down the street he heard sightless cars singing in a hurry. Amy entered the coffee shop. She wore the same dress she had when they first met. Wily saw her and invited her to the table. He got up and drew a chair for her. She sat down. “Thank you”. “No problem”. “So how are you feeling today”, asked Amy. “I am okay”, replied Wily.

“Care for some muffins”, Wily asked imploringly. “No thanks I will have coffee”. She called the waiter and ordered coffee. “So why am I here, missed me”, said Amy teasing. Wily opened his mouth, but words wouldn’t come out. He opened his heart, but words wouldn’t come out. He cleared his brain but still words wouldn’t come out. He was angry.

He hesitantly grabbed the knife to cut his ear but stopped. Cutting his ear was nothing compared to the love he had for her. So, he drew his gun from his hip and stared at the misty mountain with tearful eyes.

“Wait Wily what are you doing”, said Amy with a lump in her throat. “It’s time it’s time”, said Wily with tears streaming down his face. He then blew his brains out. Blood spilled over the table. It poured on Amy’s long, elegant dress.

She looked over the window and the misty mountain was clear. The blueness of the sky poured in the coffee shop.