Something I Wrote a Few Years Back

I wrote this a while back, while living in Oregon. It was raining, and I was looking at my tweed coat hanging in the closet, and I just got this spark of inspiration. It's not finished, and I highly doubt I will ever finish it, or add on to it.

It had been raining all night.  I was awakened a few times by sudden downpours on my roof.  Besides the frequent rain, it was also unbearably cold.  And wouldn’t you know, I’d run out of coffee.  So I went to my favorite café for a muffin and café latte.  I was quietly seated in my corner; reading a book of Keats’ poetry, when she came in.

I’d seen her pass the window, dressed in her gray tweed coat, the hood pulled over her head to protect her from the cold rain.  I drew my eyes back to the book.  I heard the familiar tinkle of the door opening, and my eyes went curiously to the door, fully intending to go back to the book once I’d seen who walked in.  A shrouded figure entered, looking like some medieval character from a film.  The hood slowly pulled backwards; revealing an attractive woman with black hair.  Her quiet eyes slowly darted around the café.  She gently walked to the counter, her face reading the menu board.  She ordered a cookie and vanilla chai latte.

Once her order was ready, she sat at the table adjacent to mine.  She unbuttoned her tweed coat, and placed it on the empty chair to dry.  She walked to a cart with coffee tools to grab a napkin and coffee stir straw.  She looked my way, while I pretended to be engrossed in Keats.

  

“I love that book,” she smiled brightly.  “One of my favorite poems is in there.  Have you gotten to ‘Bright Star’?”

I casually glanced up. 

“No, I haven’t.  I think it’s towards the back, and I have made it my mission to read each and every word.”  I fidgeted with the cover while talking to her.

She shook her head, as if she understood.  “Well, good luck,” she whispered, going back to her table.  I decided to skip to ‘Bright Star’, to see what she was talking about.  And she was right; it was a beautiful poem.

Awhile later, she was finishing her chai, and putting on her coat.  As she walked to the trash can, I called out to her.

“I decided to skip ahead to read ‘Bright Star’.  You’re right, it is a nice poem.”

She smiled.  “That it is,” she replied.  “I’ll see you around.”

 ********

For the next week, I went to the café, hoping to see the woman in the gray tweed coat.  And never once did I see her.  Dejected, I went back to my normal home coffee brewing routine.

I was at the grocery store one afternoon (although it looked like evening) to do some impromptu shopping, when I saw a tweed coat.  My heart skipped a beat, and when I got closer, I realized it wasn’t her.  Depressed, I kept going.  In the produce department, I was thumping a cantaloupe, when I saw a tweed coat.  I wasn’t about to depress myself yet again, so I walked toward the broccoli.

“It’s the guy who was reading Keats at that little café,” I heard a voice cry behind me.  At this point, I believed my brain was playing tricks on me, so I kept walking.  “Hi!”  Deciding to play along, I spun around.  It was her, in all her gray tweed coat glory.

“Hello,” I spoke, hiding the enthusiasm that was raging within me.  “What are you doing here?”

She grabbed a pomegranate.

“Choosing fruit,” she smiled.  “Amongst other stuff.  I came home from work last night, and noticed I had no freaking food.  Besides, I heard there’s a blizzard on the way, and I want to make sure I’ve got enough food in case I’m snowed in.”

“Of course.  Same here, except for the blizzard thing,” I smiled.

“How is the Keats reading going?”

“Quite nicely, thank you.  I keep going back to ‘Bright Star’,” I spoke.

“Yeah, it has that power,” she chuckled.  “Well, good luck.  I should get back to shopping,” she smiled.  I nodded, and said goodbye.