Kaffeine
The coffee shop was cramped with people
sitting and chatting and others pushing by to order and leave. It was warm and
smelled of roasted coffee beans, as a coffee shop should. Tucked back from the
initial bustle by the door, a couple sat with empty cups.
“Are you hungry?” the woman asked.
“Maybe in about an hour,” her boyfriend
said, shrugging, playing with his empty cup.
“Well then, where do you want to go?”
“I don’t care. You pick.”
“I picked last time. It’s your turn.” The
woman crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat.
“Well, are you hungry?” The boyfriend
leaned forward on his elbows.
“Maybe in a bit.”
“Then you aren’t yet. We’ll pick when we’re
hungry.”
“By then we’ll be too hungry to pick!” She
stuck her neck out as she spoke.
He sat up straighter. “What? No. By then
we’ll know what we’re hungry for.”
“That’s what you always say, but then we
end up arguing because we’re hungry and irritable.”
He laughed one short loud laugh, a sort of
“HA”. “No, you’re too hungry and irritable. And then I pick something, and you
don’t want it. So you may as well pick now.”
“But I picked last time!” The woman whined,
sinking into her seat.
“Fine, then we’ll get pizza.”
“Okay.”
The woman looked around at the other people
sipping coffee and eating little baked goods. Some were working on their
computer, some meeting up with friends, some with their significant others.
“You’re making a face,” her boyfriend said,
leaning again on his elbows.
“No, it’s your turn to pick. I’m fine with
pizza.” She shrugged.
“If I order it and you don’t eat it, you’ll
have wasted money. What do you want instead?”
“Pizza’s fine.”
“Okay.”
He returned to playing with his empty cup.
“Well maybe if we order bread sticks with
it.”
“Fine.” He swirled is his cup with his
finger.
“And a salad.”
“Alright then.” The cup swirled back and
forth from the middle of the table to the edge.
“Maybe I’ll just get a meatball sub.”
“Then you won’t eat the pizza.” He stopped
for a moment.
“Well, you can order a smaller pizza, and
I’ll just have a piece.”
“Fine.” He swirled the cup again, closer to
the edge.
“But then maybe I will be full.”
The cup swirled off the table, nearly
crashing on the tile. The boyfriend lunged from his seat and caught the lip of
it halfway to the ground. He put the cup firmly in the middle of the table and
looked around. No one had noticed.
“Do you want to go to an Italian place?”
“That does sound nice.” The woman smiled.
“Fine.” The boyfriend rolled his eyes.
“What?”
“You’re impossible.” He stood up, motioning
her to follow.
