Simultaneously taking off my heels and pushing open the large brass hotel doors I was greeted by spiteful kisses of the New York City night wind. Realzing that it was nearly 2AM I had thought "fucking finally" the night was over, the night everyone in your perfect family have been anticipating for nearly a year.
The day your perfect schlor of an older sister married her knight in shinning armour, creating a picturesque secne drawing tears to the eyes of nearly everyone in the room, except that is, you.
I always fucking hated everything my sister did, it made my medicore life seem even worse than it was, which it wasn't, I was partially satisfied.
At most family events I found myself faced with the question "so L, any new boys in your life?"
Each time I heard this question I would gag in disgust, having been reminded of the emotional scars from my only serious past relationship.
Making my way down 46th street I was hoping to come across some sort of coffee shop, partially to sober up from all the alcohol in my system and partially to escape my family.
I always hated family parties, I always felt like the odd one out, always out of place and one step below everyone else.
As I stumbled into my destination I realized it was completely empty, perfect.
"Hi i'll have a large regular coffee, two sugars and milk please" I managed to sputter.
I could already feel myself returning to normal, never fully under the inflence in the first place.
Though I loved the burning sensation of the cool vodka kissing my throat I vowed to never let it completely take my sainty again.
Finding my own little window seat I allowed myself to finally take a breath, I was finally alone with my thoughts and a cup of coffee.
Looking down at my watch I realized it was nearly 3AM and laughed to myself, who the fuck drinks a cup of coffee at 3AM?
As if my question was seeking an answer a tall whispy figure entered the run down coffee shop, sounding the little bells that hung adjecent to the shop's enterance.
The figure, who I established had been a boy by his long lanky legs and the overall awkward way her carried himself, walked himself up to the counter.
"hi uh i'll have a tall coffee with cream, no sugar" the boy spoke, the depth and rasp of his voice made your heart skip.
As the barista prepared the tall boys coffee, the boy awkwardly shoved is hands in his pockets and glanced throughout the room.
In an effort to make it seem as if you weren't staring at him the whole time, which you totally were, you awkwardly looked down at your coffee praying the boy would take his coffee and leave.
Damn how different your life whould have been if that tall mysterious blonde boy had taken his tall coffee with cream to go, rather than pulling up a seat to your quiant little table by the window in that run down coffee shop on 46th street.
