The cafe society

wearing a large, scratchy wool cardigan with big silver buttons that your mother bought while visiting prince edward island twenty-five years ago on her honeymoon, drinking large volumes of earl grey tea, which you always manage to accidentally let steep for too long, and then add too much sugar to, to compensate for the bitterness, speaking about my past just vaguely and bitterly enough that people wonder what it was that made me leave that school in the east to come back home, practically living in the coffeeshop on campus, sipping on macchiatos while reading through my notes, wearing very heavy, clunky low-top brown doc martens, which often make me stumble on the stairs in the science building, reading second-hand copies of classic plays, which i aquired when the theater department at my old high school was clearing out their storage loft, performing dramatic readings of edgar allen poe and lord byron to my cat when im home alone with their, drinking cheap wine anytime theres a reason for any kind of celebration or making up an excuse when there isnt one, playing my chet baker record, which i bought for one dollar at a local antique mall, at full volume late at night while i pine after the girl who never loved me back, or who never knew i loved her, at least.