April 12, 2012

Starbucks Coffee, Jupiter St.

There is a really attractive young lad here (15? Yes I am aware that I am creepily observing a boy possibly 6 years younger than I am) from where I am sitting -wild curly hair, a blue plaid polo (unbuttoned over a shirt), curiosity in his eyes. He’s reading the newspaper. A girl sits across him and they barely converse. Girl is immersed in her phone. The boy is looking for something to do, keeping himself occupied by strumming an imaginary guitar on his leg.

…

After an hour, girl reaches out to feed the boy half of her french toast which she couldn’t finish. Affectionately, or so it seemed, until she shoved half the piece in his mouth and withdrew her fork swiftly. Like a sword. Like I had nothing to do with this.

I briefly think about their relationship. Who is girl? Sister, helper, lover? Her face tells me she could be anyone, and they seem to be playing a game of ignoring each other. There was no stimulating conversation wafting in the air, no gestures that would make me think, young as they are, Maybe they are passionately in love. There was nothing but a small coffee table in between two distant couches seating two lovers? two friends? two people.

The boy scratches girl’s knee, mumbles something, stands up and fetches her water. Score, girlfriend she must be. The boy gets up again, fishes out a stick of cigarette, goes outside with his green tea matcha drink, taste of which I curse with my life, and smokes the cig up alone. Just 15 and he smokes? And nonchalantly so? I felt bad for my youth. I felt bad for their youth. I pondered upon their generation’s sense of normalcy and how bitter it tastes in my mouth.

Soon after, the boy finishes his solitary session with his cigarette and surrenders it to the ashtray. The light catches his face upon re-entering the door. He wasn’t that good looking after all, I reckon.

He stops in front of girl and lowers his face above hers - stays like that for a few seconds. I struggle to see what was going on. Were they making kissy faces? Staring at each other, finally a glimmer of passion, a semblance of recognition? No? At least I hoped. Boy gets back to his chair, revealing the girl. She’s back in my vision - still completely enamored with the keys of her phone, the boy who just left her being an unrecognizable silhouette.

They soon left their chairs without a word.