50 First Dates

i

I turn into the parking lot of the same small cafe I eat at every morning. It's a quaint little building by the beach, just outside of town. The building is younger than me, but it looks much older due to all the storms that it has weathered.

My father first brought me here on my tenth birthday and I've loved it ever since. Every time I come here it always give me a sense of nostalgia, because coming here reminds me of my father, like he's still here with me.

Ever since my father died two years ago, my life has fallen into this routine that some people may call boring, but to me it feels comfortable. I was never one who liked to follow a routine. I spent most of my college years doing whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. But after I finished college and began working at the animal clinic, I didn't have the time to do what I wanted when I wanted. I always had to be at a certain place at a certain, and that's the way it's been every since.

Even though I don't need to, I glance at the clock on the dashboard of my old car which reads 7:00 a.m. like it always does. I know I should get another car - I could certainly afford it - but my father gave me this car on my sixteenth birthday and I could never let my self part with it, no matter how many times it left me stranded on the side of the road.

I shut the ignition off and step out of the car, making my way toward the door of the withering shack. If another hurricane were to pass by the island, the force of the winds would surely blow it away. To this day, I still have no idea what is holding this little building up, because from the outside, it looks like it could crumble any minute. But that's why i like it - it has character.

"Hey Harry," a man's voice calls from across the parking lot. I turn to see a slender man with salt and pepper hair waving at me through his open window as he pulls into the parking spot next to mine.

"Hey Tom." I smile at him and give him a small salute.

That's another thing I love about this little cafe - the familiarity. Everyone knows me, and it's nice because this place feels like a second home to me, and all these familiar faces have become my family.

I walk into the small cafe, a bell ringing as I open the door and five sets of eyes turn to look at me.

"Harry!" they all say in unison, and I give them a small nod.

I take my usual spot on a stool at the counter. Ellen walks over and sets a coffee cup in front of me and begins to fill it. I hear the bell on the door ring again and everyone in the room greets Tom as he walks in.

"The usual?" she asks me with a smile and I nod. She smiles back at me and I can see deep lines surround her mouth. She's been working here since she opened this place, and she looks older than she really is. I offered to help her many times but she always dismisses me, insisting that she can handle it by herself. She has done a good job this far, so I stopped asking.

A few minutes later, Ellen returns with my usual plate full of bacon, eggs and toast. I begin to eat and take in my surroundings. Ellen walks around pouring coffee and asking everyone how their week has been. I look around and see all the usual people, except a pretty blonde sitting at the booth in the corner.

I watch her as she looks down at her plate, cutting her pancakes into shapes with her fork with a smile and I can't help but wonder what is going through her mind. I've never seen anyone look so happy while cutting their food.

I take another bite of my bacon and try not to make it seem obvious that I'm staring at her.

"Pretty isn't she?" Ellen asks, and I almost choke on my bacon. I look up at Ellen who's looking at me with the smallest hint of a smirk. "She used to come in here all the time, like you."