The Roadside Coffee Shop


A person was sitting in the corner. Near the window, just opposite the entrance. He was sipping at his hot cup of coffee. The place is just right. The furniture's mostly light brown in colour.

The crowd's there, not many of them but plenty enough for a crowd. He seemed to just wanted to fade away in the corner, like a chameleon. A little hard to notice for a casual observer, but he was there nonetheless.

The music was playing. It was easy jazz, and was just right for places like it. The sunset was bright orange, and like the music, it was just right for places like it.

So, what's his story? What is he there for? Did he just got back from work, and instead of going home and going through 2 hours of unbearable traffic, decided to just go to his favourite coffee shop and sip a hot cup of java? Or was he just silently enjoying himself, congratulating himself for a business negotiation that went well? Was he even a working man?

Or was he waiting for a special someone? A person to cure his loneliness? A person who could be there for him, for nothing in particular besides just being there with him? Was he even lonely?

Or was he there to be by himself? To cure a broken heart, to be alone and think things through?

Or was he there just for the coffee? And what kind of coffee was he drinking?

Well, it would be nice to think that he was there just for chillin' and being content. Maybe to wait for the traffic, maybe to silently celebrate his recent success, maybe to wait for that special someone. Maybe that man was there for no particular reason at all.

In any case, it was only a painting. A painting running through my mind. A painting of a man and his favourite roadside coffee shop.