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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short story about obsession, infatuation and disappointment...

Submitted: December 18, 2014

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Submitted: December 18, 2014



Simon started his new job last week.  He’s been wanting to work there for the last year.  It was a café, an ordinary café.  There was nothing special about it.  Not the people, the décor, the music, nor the taste of the coffee.  He just wanted to work there.  Everyday he’s the first one in and the last one out.  He doesn’t care.


Simon just wanted to be nearby, just in-case.  He needed to be here, to get a glimpse, everyday.


Finally she comes.  ‘Hello’ she says to him and he replies accordingly.  They start exchanging pleasantries.  She’s enjoying the attention, the attention he wants to give her, no matter how slight.  She asks what he’s doing here and he tells her he’s working here now.  While smiling she orders her coffee, a skinny cappacino.  He serves her and while no-one is looking tells her to have it ‘on the house’.  She hesitates but coyly.  She accepts, pleasing him.


She sits down near the window looking out.  He comes up behind her pretending to clean a table and starts chatting to her.  Trying to continue on the conversation he last had with her.  There have been many conversations like this where he’s tried to continue on from before.  He seems to always remember what they talked about, reminding her and trying to impress her with what he remembers.  He remembers everything, trying to picture how she lives everyday.


Then a man walks in, and Simon doesn’t notice.  He swoops down and sits next to her, covering her eyes with his hands and kissing her neck.  She turns quickly and smiles, smiling a different smile, one that he’s never seen.  Simon somehow realises he could never accomplish this, to make her illuminate like a thousand candles suddenly being lit in a cold cathedral.  Who was this man?


Simon starts to feel withdrawn and faraway, faraway from her, him, people, noise, warmth.  Unconnected, everythings an echo.  He becomes empty, cold, he feels ice forming inside of him.  Suddenly he feels a spark forming on his fingers and wrists.  It makes his limbs limp and wanting.  Unconsciously he holds his wrist covering his wound, trying to stop his cold ice from spilling everywhere.


He starts to walk away.  She looks at Simon, and not Simon’s eyes.  She looks slightly annoyed, bored.  Now that ‘he’s’ arrived, Simon has to walkaway.  Simon walks away, smiling, trying to make her think he’s okay, trying to make her think he’s just a friendly local who has recently just started working in the local café.

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