Millisecond Bliss

5. Welcome to Espresso Ernesto

It's kinda beautiful, the quaint café. Situated at the corner of a string of generic food chain restaurants, is the coffee shop which houses Murmoho. Yaris had mentioned it being a family owned business, which makes sense now, looking at it, considering its rustic aura and it's less than familiar name.

'Espresso Ernesto' has a subtle, yet notable inviting appeal. A feature which is further amped up by the comforting smell of well brewed coffee and cinnamon in hot coca which gently blankets us as we enter the café. A sudden rush of excitement teases my facial features and for the first time since I've opened up to Yaris, I almost smile, however, as tempted as I am to succumb to the refined warmth of the café, I'm not quite there yet, maybe after a while of being here I will be but not just yet.

"It's just as beautiful as he said it would be," I hear Yaris say. He'd been entirely quiet during our walk from the car to the café. I am about to agree with him, but then realise, as I turn to face him, that he isn't talking about the café as an entirety but rather the wall which had been sectioned off to a side of the shop which isn't immediately visible from the vicinity of the entrance, which is why I hadn't immediately spotted it.

It truly is a magnificent structure; standing almost discretely at the far end of the store, adjacent the entrance, is the infamous wall we'd travelled all this way for. Why I say discretely is because the wall doesn't exactly stand out as you'd expect such an old structure to but rather fits perfectly into the décor of the café yet the plethora of crevices and bits of paper which stick out of them tell anyone that Murmoho is not just another wall which therefore makes it a magnificent structure.

I want to move closer to it to further inspect it but the look on Yaris' face keeps me firmly bolted in place. The expression he wears is a mixture of awe and anguish. The paradox illustrated by his simultaneous astonishment and regret, makes me unsure of how to proceed.

Suddenly, without shifting his gaze, he whispers, "I should never have roped you into this."

I want to ask why being here is so difficult, but then remember his earlier reluctance to tell me about why he loved this place so much despite never having physically been here. Instead I opt to reassure him that I can handle emotionally supporting him which does sound ironic considering I am barely emotionally stable myself.

"You never roped me into anything, I asked to join you. I just want you to know that you shouldn't be afraid of exposing more of yourself to me," I say, offering my support.

"I knew that coming here would take an emotional toll on me, but I still let you join me, I could've easily said no to you," he argues. In a way, he's right. I had signed up for escaping existence with Yaris, barely knowing what that meant but desperately hoping it implied a few hours of ignorant bliss. Man was I wrong. I didn't ask to join Yaris to be his emotional support or to vent, however, I preferred it this way. For the first time I faced my emotional fears, it was messy, and I felt like shit afterwards and I still kind of do, but it was definitely worth it because now I feel like I can maybe tell my parents my truth, more so than I did before.

"But you didn't and I'm grateful for that," I attempt to assure him.

"You don't understand, Felicity. That friend who told me about this place, he died," he mutters, his voice cracking slightly, before stalking away towards a male barista by his workstation.

I stand there for a good five minutes, silently absorbing Yaris' response and partly eavesdropping on his conversation with the barista. Considering the fact that both parties are whispering and that the counter is a considerable distance from where I'm standing, I can barely make out what they are talking about. Their body language does make evident the fact that they're familiar with each other.