titles ; styles

01

My daily routine of going to the coffee shop was exactly that, daily. Daily at the exact same time I may add. I didn't come here for any particular reason; I didn't ever even order anything. Coffee was gross, but I liked to watch the people who came to enjoy it.

Coming in at the same time every day didn't really leave a lot of room for diversity, but I didn't need it. It takes more than once to memorize everything about a person's face before they're gone again.

Observing was all I ever did. I would memorize every tiny detail of someone's face and then I sat down to draw it. I had claimed the table in the back corner, the only round one in the small room. I sat by myself, and just drew.

The worn, brown journal that sat in front of me was full of the faces of strangers. Sometimes sole hands or lips or eyes would pop up on occasion if I wasn't in the mood to draw the whole thing.

I loved how every person had something different about them, whether it be the tattoos that they have or the rings that they wear or the way that they wear their hair. It's all different, and they all have their own individual stories that I, for some odd reason, try to figure out.

I could say I was different, others could say I was weird. It didn't matter to me. I was unique and I knew it, and I didn't want to change that for anybody. I liked art and music and writing and drawing, and pretty much all the things that a normal teenage girl would venture away from, but that didn't matter to me.

I walked to the back of the shop, past the counter where I never bothered to stop, and sat down alone before looking around the room. The shop was dim making the space feel warm and inviting. It was filled with less people than usual, and they were all the same people that were always here at this time, people that I have already drawn. Sighing, I looked down at the blank sheet of paper and started to doodle around the margins. The occasional jingle of the bell on the door caused me to glance up to see who was walking in, but I was left with disappointment when it wasn't anybody new.

As the flowers I was doodling traveled across the entire page, I closed the notebook and left, giving up on any new art to walk through the door. I began to pack up and push my chair in as the door rang again. I looked up to see who it was, expecting to see one of the usuals but seeing someone completely new instead.

I slowly sat back down, turning past the sloppy flowers I had just drawn and stopping at a new page. Staring at someone as intently as I did wasn't very nonchalant, but I somehow got away with it. Usually when someone noticed they just smiled and turn away, going back to their normal routines. I've always just wanted to absorb every detail, especially of him.

My pencil started to work in sync with how my eyes traveled along his face. His jaw was sharp, and it was slightly covered in stubble that traveled along it and up around his lips. His lips, full and pink, moved smoothly as he talked to the cashier, ordering an iced coffee with extra creamer in it. His nose had the perfect slope that led up to his bushy? but not too bushy eyebrows. They fit him and that's all that mattered, and they framed the most beautiful eyes. Bright and green, with long eyelashes, all tied together with long, dark hair that traveled in mass of curls from the top of his head down to his shoulders. Never had I ever seen any person as close to a masterpiece as he.

I looked down, focusing on perfecting the many curls that fell around his face, shading them to emphasize the beautiful dark color. In my trance, I hadn't noticed that the tall man had left the counter with his coffee and walked to find an empty seat until a deep voice broke through from across the table,

"Is that me?"