If only ↠ h.s.

one

Sweeping the already spotless floor for one last time, I place the broom in a corner. This place has always been one for all the lonely souls of the earth and if, by chance, they ever find their way out here, it'd be really unfortunate.

Okay, perhaps, I'm exaggerating. It isn't that bad but it's not fun either. Sometimes I wonder why I even agreed to work here in the first place. The kind of boredom it provides is unaccountable. All you can do here is: 1) Sweep the floor to dispel the boredom (which sounds totally bizarre), 2) Stand behind the counter and stare at the walls whilst singing loudly off-key, 3) And if you're lucky enough, serve the customers who barely pay a visit.

That's all you did in Lola's cafe aka the place I worked in. The name Lola had no association with the real owner of the cafe as I've been told by man who appointed me here and was never seen again.

And since, customers barely turn up due to the isolated location, there's this old lady who is the apparent caretaker and who stays here after I leave, doing what I do but with immense patience. She's quiet conceited and she barely speaks, so we haven't had much of a conversation in the past few weeks I've been working here.

My four hour shift seemed to have lasted for days; everyday was a slow day here. Sighing, I run my hands through my messy raven hair, untangling the strands as I do so. I forgot to carry a novel today otherwise wouldn't be as boring as it seems. Kidding, It'd still be the same.

Placing my hands on the counter, I take one of those two-feet tall chairs and get seated. The weather outside seemed deplorable, it has been raining cats and dogs since past five hours and the pain it took me to get myself here is inexplicable. The city was in a sick condition, water and dirty puddles everywhere. That is what it is like in Masqeida, a small town in California, let it rain for a couple of hours and whole city is already drowning.

I don't expect anyone to pay a visit today. Taking my earphones out of my back pocket, I plug them in and scroll down on my screen until I come across one of those beethoven's compositions and hit play. The music sinks in and I feel my lashes getting heavy. I place my chin on the counter and close my eyes, losing myself to the music.

The bell hanging by the door rings marking the arrival of a customer. I unwillingly open my eyes to see a hooded figure rushing in. He sits on the first chair by the door with a thump, his back facing me. I let out a sigh, get myself up and smoothen my dress.

Without taking any notice of his surroundings, he gets rid of his jacket and placing it on the neighboring chair, runs his hand through his dark hair. His clothes were completely soaked in water; seems like he got all caught up in the rain. His white shirt stuck to his body making his toned muscles visible through his shirt. Did I just felt something in my stomach? Oh, junks.

He doesn't ring for the order or calls for one but fixes his gaze at something distant out of the window.

Duty ring. I grab a pen and a notepad and go up to his table.

"Morning Sir. Welcome to Lola's cafe. What can we get you ?" I ask in a sweet, soft, made up Ellie Goulding voice.

He doesn't look at me but I can see his fingers clenching and his jaw flexing. I can't really tell if he was cross or something as I couldn't really see his face.

"Sir, How ca-"

He gets up pushing the table aside and turns to face me. And in a split second, his expression was like that of a guy who had seen the ghost of his long lost dead love. He raises his hand, bringing it closer to my face. Unaware and a bit scared of the things that followed his getting up from the table, I take a step back.

His brows smoothen out as if a sudden wave of realisation splashed him across his face and he drops his hand down. His lips curve as if he wanted to say something but doesn't. And before I could enquire him of anything, he's out of the cafe banging the door as he goes and walking fast down the lane as the rain continues to hush all the voices around.