The Window
Exercise from the first week of writing class.
I rub my eyes. They feel tired. It had been a real struggle getting out of bed this morning. My streak of sixteen hour work days was wearing me down. My coffee had not kicked in yet. I glance at my watch. 8:39. Where is the bus? I pace up and down the pavement. It’s supposed to be here at 8:39. I have tons to get done today. I breath a sigh. It helps me to relax. I look around.
Next to the bus stop is the Cafe Dolce. There he is. The old man is sitting at his usual spot by the window facing the bus stop. I see him there every morning always with his cup of coffee. He brings the cup of coffee to his lips and tentatively takes a sip. He winces for a moment, purses his lips and blows onto the cup. He sips again. He closes his eye to savor the hot aromatic liquid. He opens his eyes and looks out towards the road.
He could have been fifty or sixty. Maybe even older. It’s hard to tell. I see him every morning. Whenever I drag myself out of bed and run to this bus stop. Quietly sitting in the coffee shop, sipping his coffee. He brings the cup to his mouth and takes another sip. He looks directly at me. I realize that I’m staring at him deep in my thoughts. A little smile forms on his face and he gives a little nod to acknowledge my presence. He takes another sip.
A ray of sunlight hits the window. The light plays a strange trick. My face overlays the old man behind the window. The morning chill cuts into my fingers. There is an ache in my joints. It’s a pain I’ve not felt before. I massage my fingers and it eases the pain. Something blocks out the sunlight. I see the old man sipping on his coffee. He looks at me and then smiles quizzically.
