[IN PROGRESS]
Martha and James are soulmates trapped together in a never-ending reincarnation loop. Not a bad way to spend eternity, but they wanted more. They wanted a child. Serafina is born and Martha and James are elated to love and raise her a...
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The Coffee Cafe was situated between a university spirit wear store and a Domino's pizza. The green, cursive sign above the entrance was faded and chipped. A rainbow flag, mounted on a pole beside the door, looked brand new, its colors so vibrant they practically glowed as it swayed in the breeze.
There were no hours posted, but an OPEN sign hung atilt in the front window. I pushed through the door and it tripped a bell to announce my entrance.
Linda, the owner, greeted me from behind the counter. "Welcome, sweetheart." She was in her late fifties, but looked older. Her posture was horrible and she had a limp due to a partially amputated foot brought on by diabetes. I'd spent considerable time with her in the previous life and still consider her one of the kindest people I've ever met. "What can I get for ya?"
"Just a cup of black, please," I said.
"My favorite order," she replied with a smile as she poured the cup of coffee. "That'll be a dollar." I placed two on the counter. "Bless you, sweetheart. Sit anywhere you like."
There was an empty pair of upholstered wingback chairs and a folding wooden bistro table by the front window, but I knew better. To the right of the counter was a doorway, concealed by a rainbow colored bead curtain with the words "FOUND LOUNGE" hand painted above in black, block lettering.
I parted the beads with my free hand and walked through the doorway. Just as I remembered, the back lounge was darker than the front with no windows and only a pair of shaded lamps on opposite corners of the room and a trickle of natural light peeking through the curtains. Generally speaking, the lounge's design was a confused mess. The walls were a sloppy dark green and the trim, neon pink, courtesy of a couple of broke undergrads she'd contracted five years earlier. Framed paintings and sketches, donated by university students over the years, filled the walls. Some of them were impressive, some of them were not, and they'd been arranged with zero consideration for style, theme, or spatial aesthetic. Like a proud mamma unconditionally plastering the fridge with her children's artwork.
Beneath the artwork and along the walls, chairs of various size and material – metal, wicker, upholstery – were paired up randomly. Like many of The Coffee Cafe's patrons, nothing in the Found Lounge fit, but everything belonged.
In the middle of the lounge, there was a giant, beat up sectional couch wrapped around a round, antique wooden coffee table, littered with coffee ring stains. Four black, metal support beams framed the couch and created an unintentional boundary. Most of the chairs in the outer ring were occupied with students either in conversation or reading quietly, but the couch was empty. It was risky, but I took a seat in the corner of the sectional. Because you only meet your soulmate for a second time once.
As Blondie played through hidden speakers, I sipped my coffee – mediocre as ever – then set the cup on the table and took a slow breath to quell my racing heart.
