Just someone I met at a coffee shop

Just someone I met at a coffee shop (Short Story)

There's a lady I know. I met her just a few weeks ago.

She has dark hair and the only makeup I've seen her wear is red lipstick. When she smiles, which is almost constantly, her mouth curves off to the side.

Her skin is clear and pale and has an unmistakable glow to it. I'm very jealous of it, actually. I thought upon seeing her that her moisturizer must be very high-end.

She's very tall. She's the tallest woman I think I've ever seen. You wouldn't notice it when she's sitting down, but when you walk alongside her, she absolutely towers over you.

She wears things I could almost certainly say are from a different time period. She likes dresses with plaid and ribbons and lace.

The first time I saw her, sitting all alone at a café table, she wore a plaid red dress that was reminiscent of the styles of the American 50's. It had a V-neckline and was synched at the waist with a black belt. It may have been out of place at a downtown Starbucks, but it was nice nonetheless.

The second time, a satin baby blue dress I could only assume was worn just after the corset went out of fashion: it had no shape. Obnoxiously so.

And the third dress... the third was a bit odd. Well, it was a cold day when she wore it, I can't blame her. It was a heavy 16th century European ballgown, one that definitely required a corset. It was a dark green velvet, embedded with what looked like pearls and gold thread. Where did she get that thing? Nothing I've seen in in any antique store.

She certainly isn't boring with her fashion.

This woman I met always seemed a little strange. Strange in a very good and intriguing way.

When I first met her at the coffee shop that morning, she was reading a book. Just that. No coffee in front of her, no phone in sight.

In fact, I've never seen her with a phone.

Makes me wonder how we matched on Tinder.

I took a seat at her table, said hello, and she put the book down as she greeted me.

She wasn't much for talking, but she wasn't shy either. Maybe she just didn't want to say much.

She answered every question I asked with brevity, but she kept eye contact the entire time. Smiled through almost every word.

She has a level of confidence I don't have.

I did ask her what moisturizer she used. I had to know. She said that she "doesn't pay attention to the label," as her eyes locked into mine. I can't lie, that made me jealous. There's no way skin like hers is natural. Then I said I liked her dress- it was the plaid one. She said she liked my bangs in return, and I smiled.

I asked her about her book. She showed it to me: The Trial by Franz Kafka. I said I'd read it before, and that I liked it, but thought the main character was a bit boring. She agreed. Really, there's a lot more you could say about that book, but we didn't discuss it any further.

Since I was the only one putting forth questions, there were occasional silences. But they weren't uncomfortable. I filled them by sipping my coffee and gazing dreamily out the window in back of her. And as I was doing so, she never took her eyes away from me.

I can't remember anything else we talked about. All I know is that I enjoyed her company. She wasn't too forthcoming, didn't try to dominate the conversation. She had a calming voice, nice smile. Very polite.

And all the time I was sitting with her... I felt something that I could not place.

A sensation I'd never quite felt before.