Time Zones

The only sounds that filled the twenty-four hour Starbucks came from the frantic keyboard clicks from overly exhausted college students and whirring from the blenders behind the counter. I sat in my usual spot in the corner of the café. My back against the wall and the window at my side. The moonlight glowing brightly through the glass.

Being in the café late night was usually one of the only ways I could cure my writer's block. I know it sounds cliché, but that's because it is cliché. Although, there was another reason for being awake and out so late...

I sat there for a few moments and stared at the blank screen on my laptop, waiting for words to appear itself. I could feel myself begin to forget about my coffee, and immediately grabbed the paper cup, drinking its now lukewarm liquid that no longer fogged my glasses.

I looked back on the screen to see a notification appear. Immediately putting the cup down, I frantically opened the notification only to be disappointed to find another Target subscription email. I grumbled as I closed the tab and went back to the empty word document. Taking a deep breath, I sat up straight and began typing away.

Every now and then I would open my phone to check for a notification, as well as open the messaging app on my laptop. Both remained empty. I checked for the time: 12:09.

My eyebrows furrowed. "She has to be awake by now. It's morning." I thought to myself.

I took another breath and concentrated back on my work.

...

            I continued to type, but my mind kept wandering. My thoughts were filled with "good morning" texts, monthly letters, and scenery photos.

            My chest began to tighten and butterflies flew in my gut as I thought more about it. My hand hovered over my phone, ready to send a message.

            "Calm down, Seth. She's probably just busy."

            I retracted my hand back and pouted.

...

I rubbed my eyes sleepily and looked at the time: 2:17. I checked my phone once more for a message only to find it empty. Grumbling, I got up to order another coffee before returning to my seat. To stare at the infernal page of madness.

Ever since being in the café, I drowned out the outside sounds around me that I didn't realize the patter of footsteps coming and stopping in front of me.

"Are you a writer?" a soft voice asked.

Without looking up, I sighed, "I wish."

"Oh, well, my boyfriend is a writer. Maybe he can help you." The voice said cheerily.

"Well, I'm sure he's definitely better tha-," I cut myself off as I looked up.

Months of online messaging, calling, and video chatting had never prepared me for this moment. I sat there like a deer in headlights as I looked up into the most gorgeous and warmest pair of brown eyes that I've only dreamed about meeting in person.

"Isabel."