Creative Writing Corner

M ea Tela

From a cup of coffee. From a bump. From the little interactions that never get stuck to our mind, a story such as ours was born, and it engraved in my mind the cup of coffee, the bump.

I woke up that day thinking it was just going to be a copy of the other 364 days of the year. When the clock strikes midnight, I always have a habit of crossing out each passing day off the calendar. No date can escape the cross of the marker. Not from me.

Unless it’s the 28th of February, 2020. That day would be, perhaps, the only day I forgot to cross in my calendar.

I woke up. Got out of bed. Took a shower. Got dressed. Left my apartment building at 8am sharp. Walked to my favorite cafe, the Cherry Cafe. Ordered the ginseng latte. Sat down at the table near the window. Drank the coffee. Got up, gathered my things.

Usually, by this time I would be walking to my office, just 50 meters away. Yet this time, my feet stopped firm at the sound of the bell signaling someone ’s entrance into the coffeeshop.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t get my eyes off the person entering through the front door. The girl had shining long, brown hair and eyes. She was wearing a plain yellow jacket over a casual long sleeve white shirt and some ordinary jeans, all of which you could probably find at your local department store. And yet, her entire being reflected the sun off her body from her hair to her feet. Well, of course, that's because the sun shone bright right behind her. I now longed for the exit and the path which took me in front of my company’s headquarters and outside of this sunny coffee shop. As I walked towards the back, in my head I saw the pile of files that I was heading to, and nothing else.

“I have to finish writing the yearly report for the boss, and I also need to get started sorting out that other assignment, plus I also need to...”

“Oh, I’ m so sorry,” I heard, as I felt something hot stain my shirt. I look down and there’ s an empty plastic cup of coffee on the ground, and the floor all around me is drenched in spilled coffee.

“I’ m so so sorry. ”

I finally looked up to meet eyes with the girl from earlier. She still stood with her back to the sun, I noticed.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” I quickly said and tried to leave.

“Wait, I” I stopped.

“I can’t let you leave like this after spilling coffee on you-” the girl said as her hand reached for the pack of tissues on the counter. She wet the tissue with some water and tried to clean the spots stained by the coffee, but I stopped her.

“I said it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

I moved her hand away from my shirt, and made my way out to the exit. I was followed by a couple apologies out the door, but I didn’t turn my head