My Blind Spot, Her Perception

The tenebrous corner at the back of the cafe.

She came to me in a dream before I met her. I knew she was safe. Seeing her for the first time I felt like I knew her, like she was some subtle hint from my childhood, an unnoticed iridescence in the waters. She encapsulated the traits I never had or never thought I could but I felt myself living vicariously through her, tribulations and triumphs flipped my stomach as if it was for me. I remember the first day like everyday since, a dream I can't awake from yet don't dare pinch myself in case we disappear. Almost unseeable at the darkest corner of the barren coffee shop, who knows how long she'd been there. Through the hours my eyes keep shifting back to her corner, many times I even thought she was staring right at me, as if her gaze was trying to burn a hole through my skull yet when I turned back she never was. I don't think I recall a single time in our friendship which I truly saw into her eyes, never observing beneath those dissociated pits that centred her. I repeat, I never felt scared by her, she was safe. Darkness surrounded the cafe, signalling evening's approach and so like clockwork I began to close the cafe, alone. I realise this was the first time I ever heard her speak. She protruded from her corner, which I had been unaware was still occupied. My eyes instantly weighed and dropped to the service machine, feeling as if I looked right at her she might leap over the counter and wrap herself onto me, suffocating me with her mass of silk ink. This was a comforting feeling, yet still, I trained my eyes on the machine.

"Espresso, please". Her words had no clear regard for my evident attempt to close the shop and almost sensing my inability to displease people, she followed up before I could reply. "£4 isn't it? Little steep for an espresso but I suppose it's better to support local businesses rather than a multi-million corporation that doesn't give a rat's ass about their workers". Giving her a quick glance I produced a quick smile and relied hesitantly,

"Yeah I suppose it is". I couldn't have said it better myself, is what I wish I had said. The topic had only been recently prevalent in my mind throughout my shift which had sparked me into an internal monologue of spite and inspiration for social reform. My father hated these speeches. Her smile was radiant with sincerity as she handed over her cash, never breaking eye contact with me first so I veered my eyes back to the counter as if engaging would earn me an eternal contract. "Have a lovely night!", as she had already begun walking away. A high pitched customer voice I should have foreseen she would see right through. A chuckle and a

"Thanks, I'll see you tomorrow Orelia" left her lips with such ease I never had, had almost made me forget to question her knowledge of my name. However a brief pause allowed me to feel the name badge on my apron, almost an unconscious signal of the time and the impending night that was eager to meet me.

My mind stayed on the girl, her spirit and essence almost fighting me to find her. I caught myself wishing for her return to the cafe in hopes that I could interrogate the endearing mystery from her soul yet from an unspoken, observed distance.