Saving Grace

Her

I glance up from the table I've been cleaning for the last ten minutes. "She'll be here soon," I think as I stare out the window. She always walked in the door at 12 pm on the dot, with a different person everyday.

I just think that is weird. She gets so into the conversations she has. It's almost as she if is debating with the new someone everyday; but these people always walk out with a look of relief, whereas she walks out more stressed every time. She is so pretty, she doesn't deserve to be so stressed. Nothing that complicated should be lay atop of her shoulders.

I only wish I could have the guts to ask her out, but I'm too socially awkward to. Plus she will probably say no. I mean look how gorgeous she is. Ugh! If only I had enough guts, but I mean look at me. I'm a guy who works in a coffee shop. No one likes that. There she is and right on time I might add.

Sometimes I think to myself if only I could be one of those people who come and talk to her. If only that was me I wouldn't make her stressed, I wouldn't let her be upset, and I definitely wouldn't let her pretend to be anyone she's not. But as of right now I'm the screw up ,the guy who serves her coffee, and I'm completely okay with that.

Her long brown hair is beautiful and looks like the softest silk in the world, her bright blue eyes mesmerising like the ocean, deep and amazing. Her long legs, just like a models, tan and gorgeous.