Alone At Last

6

"Gabe! Order for Gabe?"

"Yes, that's me," I said, pushing myself off from the wall. It's too crowded in here. My shoulders barely fit past the people around me and I feel like I have to squeeze my way back to up to the counter.

"Here's your coffee, black, two cubes of sugar, and no cream. Thank you."

"Thanks." I took the to-go paper coffee cup and left.

I'm out of the house now. Happy?

It's not raining. It's actually very sunny. Good thing I have sunglasses. They're old and scratched and barely holding it together. I think they were actually an old girlfriend's.

Figures.

I'll go shopping when I get a job.

I'll have to. I have nothing respectable enough to wear for a job. Definitely nothing fancy enough.

I was almost waiting to hear a deep God-like voice narrating my life echo from the clouds above: And this is where our hero realizes his life is a complete mess, with that very sarcastic lilting, sing-song that would get on my nerves very quickly.

Job.

Right.

Speaking of job. I should get ready for that interview tomorrow. I really needed to buy a better dress shirt. Taking a sip of my coffee, I burn the top of my mouth and tongue and walk into the nearest boutique along the road.

Why did I ever think black coffee was a good idea?

Was I punishing myself?

Do I even like coffee?

I should've just gone with tea.

"Good afternoon, sir, how can I help you?"

The door swished closed behind me without a sound. It was like I had barely moved. I was just a figment of someone's imagination.

A whisper here. A flash there.

"I need a shirt."

"What kind of shirt?"

I paused. "A nice one."