Coffee Shop Encounter

It’s another ordinary day, in the same ordinary city, at the same ordinary coffee shop, when I see her. The mundane rhythm of an everyday chain broken. She has her back to me, but I know it’s her. I recognize that backside anywhere.

I stare at her in awe, as people push through the doors and pass me. The line increases, and the crowded coffee shop becomes busier. Customers are preoccupied with their phones, while waiting, whereas other patrons converse at tables or concentrate their gaze at a computer screen. One person spills coffee, and he grunts in frustration. Some help him clean the mess, bringing some attention to the drama unfolding. Except her. She stares ahead patiently waiting her turn to order, ignoring the commotion.

Should I touch her shoulder? No, that might startle her. Perhaps saying her name. “Sarah?”

She turns around and her face lights up. She sees me. Her eyes as blue as I remember.

We met on the beach. She wore a string bikini…red as I recall. I was sitting up in the lifeguard tower, watching out for careless swimmers.

“I haven’t seen you here before, where’s Glen?” I remember her asking.

I stumbled over my words. The sight of her had me smitten. “We traded shifts.”

Now, as I stand here gazing at her it brings back the painful memories. She smiles putting out her hand for me to grab, only it isn’t mine who holds her palm. He plows past my frame, and that’s when I realize… I’m a ghost.