A curious but beautiful thing

So in my last post, I wrote about wanting to write more and how I wanted to make it more of a habit. That day I wrote up this little thing as I observed the coffee shop. Like I said, this town is very diverse, but so are people in general so perhaps I should not have been surprised. Anyway, here it is.

A Curious but Beautiful Thing

Was there a reason for the order of items on the counter? In a place like this, you may think so. Everything seems to be so organized and just right; the colours all coordinate, the floor tile pattern is consistent, the workers all are in their red and black uniforms with “Presse Cafe” embroidered over their hearts. The visitors at the coffee shop are the only inconsistency of the atmosphere. But that is the beauty of it. To an onlooker, the man at the cash seemed to care less about the way the left side of his collar turned up and that a part of his pantleg was tucked into his sock. But, he likely had a son on his way into town for the weekend with his only granddaughter. Of course, he was eager to see her. He was more eager to see his newly born grandson though. He would never tell that to anyone though. But wouldn’t any man feel that way about his name being carried on?

The man next in line could care less about that though. In fact, his future family was the furthest thing from his mind. All he could think about was her. The girl in the red and white striped shirt who he had his arm wrapped around. He watched her carefully as she ordered her coffee in the most particular way. She wanted it extra hot, soy milk not cream, etc. etc. He hardly heard her voice, all he could do was look at her face and the way her eyes scrutinized the order of the items on the counter.

She knew she was overly particular. However, it made little sense in her head as to why the salt shaker was at one end and the pepper grinder at the other. Normally, if you were putting salt on something, you would put pepper on next. She was aware of his eyes on hers, but she cared little. If he wanted her to be the object of his affection, so be it. Her affections lay elsewhere, so she paid no attention to the man whose arm was wrapped around her waist.

One cares little about one thing that another cares much about. This little nugget of truth is a curious (but beautiful) thing about not only the people in a small town coffee shop, but about people – just people.