I stare at you from across the cafe. My seat is crammed next to a table of ladies reading tarot, and down-wind of the bathroom.
You, sitting in peace at your roomy corner table spot next to the only outlet, begin to feel itchy. It is the itch of my gaze. You scratch your neck, then your shoulder, and then your wrist.
You’ve broken out in hives! You gasp and look up to make direct eye contact with me. I hold a tube of soothing ointment. I throw it long– I was high school quarterback, class of ’19 (Roll Cougs)– as far from you as possible.
The itch is too great to ignore. You abandon your chair, and crawl on swollen knees to the ointment slid underneath a side table of decorative plants and Civil war-era knick knacks.
You finally grasp the sweet, sweet, ointment to find the tube is empty. You look up at me, begging for mercy. I’m sitting in your seat, tucking into an almond croissant.
~
I descend upon you swiftly, as if from heaven above, or the 7/11 parking lot down the street that harbors quite a bit of speed and crack.
I appear so suddenly you fall out of your seat from shock. You appear to be middle aged– and to have a heart attack.
I step over you to sit down and open my laptop to continue my online AI-curated AA course. I’m on Step five, “Confess Wrongs”, so I look down at you and confess, “That was wrong of me.” I’m not yet on step nine “Make Amends”, so I don’t ask if you can ever forgive me.
~
I pretend to stub my toe on the leg of your chair as I walk past your spot positioned perfectly in the afternoon sunlight.
You ask me if I’m okay. I say my toe’s fine but no one loves me and no one ever will. I begin to cry while making sex eyes and pouting my lips. You become so uncomfortable you mumble something about being late for an appointment, pack up your stuff, and leave.
I sit down in your seat and watch as you rush out and pass my fiance carrying over a steaming vanilla soy latte he bought for me.
~
I walk up to your bar seat that happens to be right next to the oldest guy at the cafe. I tap you on the shoulder and ask if that guy’s your boyfriend. You look very young, and appear to be doing algebra homework. You look at me like I’m crazy and say no. I say, well, he’s sure checking you out a lot for someone whose not your boyfriend. You look upset and run to the bathroom.
I tap the old guy on the shoulder and he takes out his headphones. I say, hey isn’t it crazy that you happened to sit next to a girl whose friend’s with the daughter of the woman you’re having an affair with?
Pops turns red, grabs his americano, and leaves without bothering to say goodbye.
I now have two seats at the bar. One for my butt, and one for my spot in hell.
~
I burst into La Colombe in center city Philly by Rittenhouse Square and shout, “The corner store on Sansom and 19th is having a BOGO on Cali 3000 Vapes!” The entire cafe gets up and leaves. The baristas are the first out the door.
I go behind the counter and make myself a fresh brew.
~
I burst into The Laughing Goat on Pearl Street in downtown Boulder, Colorado and shout, “There’s a 75% off closing sale at the Patagonia at Pearl and 16th!” Every white person in the cafe gets up and rushes out the door. The baristas are the first to leave. The cafe is now completely empty.
I step behind the counter and make myself a large, hot, unsweetened chai latte.
~
I burst into The Stage Door Cafe on Essex Street in Dublin and yell, “There’s half off pints over at O’Neill’s until noon!”
It’s 10am. I didn’t bother to check if there was a bar called O’Neill’s close by. Everyone in the cafe gets up and herds out of the door. The baristas are the first to leave. The cafe is now completely empty.
I step behind the counter and smoke a cigarette.
~
I raise your voodoo doll up and out of your seat, and dip you headfirst into your large cold brew with extra sweet cold foam. You are quite confused, and can’t shake the notion that you have become a hefty slab of cinnamon biscotti.
I prop your voodoo doll upside down, so your legs have completely left your seat. I scoot your abandoned chair a couple feet to the left, and set up my work from home station as you continue to dunk yourself.
~
I sneak up behind you and place a monkey on your back. You freak out and run out of the cafe before I can explain that it’s just a metaphor. You grab all of the bunches of bananas off the rack on your way out.
I sit in your chair and open the book you left. I quickly realize it’s a gambling addiction self help book, and I feel slightly bad for forcing the monkey back on your back.
I burn my tongue on my venti mochacchino.
~
You ask me to watch your laptop and wallet while you run to the restroom. I smile and nod. Earlier, while waiting in line for my 7th shot of espresso of the day, I saw from your laptop screen you work in medical tech and therefore are loaded. As you close the bathroom door I calmly pack up your things into my bag.
By the time you return I’m no where to be seen along with your laptop, wallet, and seat.
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