The wind blows in the late autumn air as stoops are filled with decorations of pumpkins, scarecrows and
items of harvesting. As the scattered leaves sweep over the concrete of the ground by the shady oak trees
that are perfectly spaced-out on the busy street, a pathway guides along a wide variety of clothing shop,
grocery store, artisan crafts and one locally known coffee shop that had the best americano one’s tongue will ever taste.

As the door opens to the Coffee shop and the autumn foliage blows into the dimly lit store front, the sound of soft blues music is played over the aroma of fresh ground coffee beans. Dark stained chairs occupy the hardwood floor, the walls filled with coffee memorabilia and fine aged books that sat in mahogany bookcases. The coffee shop was vibrant but with hints of aged wood, the soft chatter of its patrons was all he could hear as he turned his coat up on his neck as he felt the cool breeze of the door being opened behind him.

He sat in front of a blank page, on a laptop that was older than he was and could barely load his writing
software. A steaming fresh americano sat to the right of him, waiting patiently to be devoured with enjoyment. His earphones plugged in, listening to a playlist that labelled “inspiration” he stared into the void that was an empty notepad, vibing to the soft swing of the guitar being played in his ears.
He looked around the coffee shop for inspiration, checking out couples talking, friends arguing and laughing and loners being lonesome. He made eye contact with a woman who sat in the corner, her eyes vibrant blue as she looks up over her coffee mug. He pauses, smiles and raises his eyebrows in curiosity, anticipating her response to the acknowledging eye contact, the moment felt like an eternity. She caught his glimpse, rolled her vibrant blue eyes in an exhausting expression and turned her body away from his. Smiling to himself, he shook his head in defeat and return to the empty white void of his screen that shined brighter than the sun in the month of march along the beaches of Costa Rica.

Flipping his phone over, he double touches the screen to check his notifications. Nothing new but one unopened message sent weeks prior. Twitching his mouth back and forth in contemplation, he unlocks his
phone and hovers his thumb over the unopened message. Placing his phone back down and taking one more glance around the crowded café, taking his cup in his hand, sipping slowly on that delicious americano. He watches a couple on the other side of the room, holding hands, smiling brightly and sharing in a laugh, the glitter in their eyes lit up the small space between them as they flirt back and forth. He watched, reminiscing on the love he once felt, the warmth that would blanket him from the cold of society, the soft touch of her fingertips dancing on the back of his hand when they once sat across from each other and the floating feeling of getting lost in her eyes as she stared back at him intently. His gaze was broken when a patron bumped into his shoulder, spilling his coffee onto his lap, looking down at the mess of his pants, he quickly looked back at the flirting couple only to discover they had left in that mere moment. Turning back to the void of his screen, he finishes what’s left of his coffee that didn’t spill onto his lap and places the cup back onto the table in front of him. Looking at his phone, he turns his gaze back to the screen of his laptop and feels defeated. He closes his computer, packs up his gear and walks away from the table.

On his way out the door, making his way through the crowd of people sipping their coffee, playing board
games and sharing life, he glances down and notices the wet stain on his pants from the spilled coffee, he
quickly exits the building, embarrassed.
Outside, standing on the busy corner of the coffee shop, the sunset starts to settle into the distance,
contemplating on where to go next. He chooses to go two blocks around the corner of the busy street to a well-known whiskey bar, a speak easy where creative people like himself like to gather. Entering the building, he approaches the bar and orders a double bourbon with a splash of cola on ice. Looking around for a corner to sit, he makes his way to an empty table that sits close to the furthest wall of the bar. Waiting for the ice to water down his drink, he dug out his laptop and opened it to the white void that follows him like a shadow in the midst of the day. Unsheathing his phone from his pocket he places it next to him and scans the room for inspiration. He watched as artists sketched, poets rhymed, and conversationalists talked about the potency of different whiskey brands and their makers. The sounds of modern folk music played softly in the air as words floated between the groups.

Finally taking a sip of his chilled bourbon and cola, a warm tingle ran down his spine, a sense of relief from the first sip of his drink, he turned towards his laptop, his drink placed next to him, he rest his arms on the edge of the table and danced the tips of his fingers along the keys of his laptop without firmly pressing, almost in a playful way, a mockery of how he typed previously. Taking the half-filled glass in his hand, he takes a couple more sips and glances over the brim. His eyes shift towards his phone, he takes his other hand and unlocks the screen, hovering his thumb over the unread message, taking his final gulp of his drink, he slowly lowers his thumb and opens the message and hesitantly reads in silence.

Hey,
This is never easy and to be truthful, I never thought it would be. The life we share, the life we were going to make was one pure and beautiful, the thought of you and I together would outshine all darkness that would ever try to cloud the love we share. The way your hands held mine, how your eyes stole my breath and the warmth of your heart was a fire that could not be contained…at least it use to be that way, I really thought our love could shine through the darkest days, but those days grew darker and the light in your eyes faded with every drink you would take until all glimmer of hope was gone, the love in your eyes drowned by a river of bourbon and you sank to the bottom and I reached! I reached so deep, but you would never grab my hand! Why didn’t you grab my hand? Was I not worth swimming for? You use to sing and laugh, smile and live but what disappointed me the most was that you stopped writing. What happened to my writer? Where is he? If you find him, let me know. Let me know if he finds his smile, if his eyes can light up a room and if he can write something so profound that it makes him cry.
I need you to find him.
Love,
Her.

Tears escaped his eyes as he read the message over and over, hearing her voice reading softly in his mind,
catching his breath and wiping the tears away on his sleeve. he glanced over at the whiskey glass, now empty shaking his head in disbelief as he pushes the glass away from him. He places his phone carefully next to his laptop and shifts his eyes over at the blank screen ahead of him. He gently placed his fingertips onto the keys and took a deep breath, he takes another glance at the message and as the memories flood his mind, his heart beats rapidly and the fire lights up in his eyes. Finally.

“Him”
A short story
Written By
Lucas Durelle