A Moment Over Coffee

I was pouring black coffee into Mrs. Bation’s cup when I heard the little, silver bell ring as someone opened the door wide. Mrs. Bation, a delicate old woman, had been in the middle of reminiscing about her late husband and the first date together. She was talking out loud, hoping that someone would hear her memory of her perfect love. While she spoke, she played with the small golden ring that still sat upon the finger of her left hand, despite the fact her husband had died in the war only after a year of their marriage.
“My darling John is such a sweet man,” she said, speaking as if he still were alive. “The first date he had was the best date I have ever been on. He drove me out to the top of this hill that overlooked the whole city. When we arrived, there was a blanket on the ground beneath the single tree that lived on that hill. He pulled out a picnic basket and revealed a delicious home cooked meal he had made for me. That night, as we had sat there overlooking the city, I had known he was the one for me.”
“Sounds magical,” I told her and smiled to give her the comfort of knowing someone had been touched by her story. As I turned the corner to get back behind the register and behind the counter, I raised my head towards the ringing of the bell and saw him walk in. At that moment, all time seemed to slow down and speed up simultaneously. The strong aroma of coffee beans disappeared and was replaced with a strong scent of daises. The faded brown walls and rusty iron tables seemed to glisten, as the sun washed over them and illuminated the man who just walked in. I was able to notice every little thing about him. His gorgeous, neatly tufted hair and his deep, dark eyes brightened his face. He had one of the most gorgeous smiles I have ever seen. It was neither too bright nor too wide, and it shone through the slight shading of a beard that had yet to be shaven away. Despite the paint-stained jeans, his recently ironed blue shirt that was complimented with a slick, black coat jacket that clung to his shoulders, giving him a more sophisticated look.
His appearance though was not the only thing that attracted me and locked me in. It was the object that he was carrying with him. Tucked neatly under his arms, he had the novel East of Eden by John Steinbeck. It was the same novel that happened to be my favorite book at the time. I felt my chest get heavy and sink in as I saw such a gorgeous man carrying that book. I realized then I was staring at the perfect man.
“Hi,” He replied simply. “Can I get one small coffee, black please.”
“Three, seventy two,” and I poured his coffee while he reached into his pockets to get exact change. As I handed the coffee over towards this man, and he simultaneously reached to grab it, the tips of our fingers touched. All time was frozen. I became lost in my own thoughts. Mrs. Bation’s story began running through my mind. However, rather than Mrs. Bation and her husband, I pictured myself and this man in the car overlooking the city. I quickly wondered if our first date would be like at all like that. I moved on to imagine our first kiss, our first time, how he would propose to me, our first dance at the end of our marriage ceremony, and the rest of our lives together. Looking at him, feeling his finger tip touch mine, I could tell he was the perfect man for me.
And then he was gone. As quickly as I had seen him walk into the coffee shop, I watched him walk out. Like a fleeting moment in time, he had entered my life and then vanished. He was never to be seen again, but also to never to be tainted by imperfections discovered in the future. He instead, was to forever remain as the one who happened to walk in to the coffee shop one summer afternoon for a single moment.