At a Café

The bell in the door tinkled yet again. The businessman sat on the first table at sight, looking anxiously at the waitress from the moment he found his seat. He opened his suitcase, revealing a laptop as black and new as his suit. His cellphone shouted in a classic and executive ringtone, to which the businessman responded with a sudden and almost instinctive snatch. His voice was as rasp and hoarse as that of a long time smoker, contrasting with his baby face.

The waitress finally approached him, dragging the unique and undescribable smell of coffee along with her. The sweet smell of cinammon bathed the small and cozy cafe, a fragrance as sweet as the bubbly and smiley face of the girl looking back at him. The businessman demanded a cup of strong and unfiltered coffee, cutting off the suggestions of the waitress and her small talk about the lovely weather.

The businessman was annoyed. He swept the café with his transparent, light blue eyes, which gave away the core of his restless personality. His leg wouldn't stop trembling as he felt the room and the crowd sifling him. The rattling noise of the coffee machine. The little girls shrieking histericaly. The rumbling laughter of the stranger next to him. He wanted his coffee. He had become addicted to it, as well as to that which kept him up all night, that which made him talk on three phones at the same time, that which had his leg shaking and his nerves at the edge of breakdown.

The waitress handed him the coffee, which he drank in the blink of an eye. The businessman did not even savour it, and only felt the strong bitterness of it running down his throat. The café which had so many times before woken his senses now contributed to the numbness of them. The overwhelming smell of cream and chocolate, the never endind murmur of the crowd, his finger siwftly moving across the keybord, the empty cup of coffee, and the sweat running down his face.