CoffeeShop Blues
A dark and foreboding mood swept into my soul just as my lunch
break beckoned. I strategically decided to take a cigarette break right
before my officially scheduled one so that I could effectively
squeeze out a couple of extra minutes of downtime.
A thick drizzle had settled in during the morning, which was not
altogether surprising considering London’s usual climate; which is
predominantly soggy. To protect myself a little from the rain, I
crammed myself into a corner with a small overhang. It was in the
alleyway that lay adjacent to the clothing store where I worked as a
salesman. There were restaurants across the way, and also, a dance
studio. I took a few furtive glances into the dance studio like a
proper pervert at the ladies tearing it up on the dance floor in their
leotards. Today wasn’t a day for trifling fantasy though. There was
something sad going on up there in the cosmos. Tragedy was
hanging thick in the air.
You know that irksome feeling when something true is worrying
you? It is a sense deeper than your average run of the mill paranoia,
a sensible and quiet sadness grounded in truth. When I went into our
break room and took out my phone there was a message from my
cousin, whose floor I was sleeping on. She was wondering if I had
seen Tapper, her recent ex-boyfriend. He had gone missing. My
heart dropped. Something bad had indeed happened, I just had that
sense of inescapable dread. A sick feeling sat in my gut for the rest
of the afternoon.
A thick, very depressing cloud of worry and darkness followed
me home that evening. The actual weather mirrored my internal state
rather well, it was a good example of my old friend pathetic fallacy.
I walked in the front door of my flat and into a picture of grief; A
community had gathered, a wake had begun.
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