I remember the first time I ever saw her, I often replay that moment at the little coffee house on sixth street. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her skin pale, eyes so wide and full of life, She smelled of strawberry and pomegranate (from her shampoo I'm assuming).
I could tell she was tired, it seemed as if she rushed to make herself presentable before leaving the house that morning. Her hair was pulled back just enough for you to see her face and she had these bright red plump lips. I couldn't help but stare at them when she spoke to the cashier.
Her voice angelic, her tone nice but not too nice. She smiled when she spoke and just has this calming presence about her.
Her order was.....predictable, yet I could tell she needed it by the two shots of expresso she added to it.
'Caramel Mochiotto with extra Whip and two shots of espresso' I watched her take her first sip and end in a sigh of relief and satisfaction and by some odd twist of fate she bumps into me, spilling her drink on me.
"Fuck!" she says, picking her cup up off the floor.
"I am so sorry," she says while frantically grabbing napkins trying her hardest not to make things worse.
"it's fine, seriously this shirt was ugly anyway," I said whipping coffee of my shirt.
"Let me at least buy you a coffee or something, its the least I could do I mean look at your shirt," she says to me apologetically.
I rarely let anyone pay for things for me but I felt as if she wouldn't take no for an answer. So I ordered small, just a regular black coffee with two sugars and a dash of milk.
She looks down at my hand, holding an old beat-up paperback and asks "is that interpreter of maladies?"
"yea, have you read it?" I said surprisingly.
"I read it last year for my literature class and LOVED it. Jhumpa Lahiri is such an amazing author I just love her work."
At that moment I was in lust, she was beautiful and she enjoyed and appreciated modern literature. We sat in that cafe and talked for hours.
We went from talking about books to sexism in the film industry when she was ranting about her favorite filmmakers like Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez. She was all over the place and I loved it.
I remember being so enthusiastically fascinated by her. She was very opinionated and just had so much to say. We were in the middle of a conversation about how brainless reality stars are when she just reached over the table, grabbed my hand, grabbed a pen from her bag, wrote her number on my hand and said:
"I have someplace to be but if you wanna continue this conversation further call me."
she got up blew me a kiss and smiled and then just walked away.
