Coffee Shop Girl by Chris Waddington
Coffee Shop Girl is a majestic portrayal that captures beautifully the glorious spontaneity and hedonistic wonder of falling in love.
At the point my creativity is building up to a crescendo, a sound breaks free from the plethora of background noise which captures my attention. The very distinctive clink of stiletto on stone in perfect symmetry proves wholly irresistible. Woefully unprepared for the enchanting portrayal that’s about to transfix me, I glance towards the counter. It would be the first time that I’d see the coffee shop girl.This striking woman exudes elegance and moves with the grace and majesty of an evergreen Federer serenely floating around Wimbledon’s fabled centre court. She possesses a level of exterior beauty that has no right to be bestowed on a solitary mortal being. It’s reassuringly natural and layered with an entrancing freshness. Picture a radiant Anna Friel at her delectably alluring best and you’re in the right ballpark. Her long black hair is far from pristine; appearing raw and silky as the winter sun catches it. With perfect poise she flicks it away from her eyes and surveys the shop before ordering. It’s extremely busy, perhaps this will dictate if her coffee is to go. I watch intently as she orders and waits patiently. What comes next will be crucial to the longevity of the gorgeous moment I’m so hopelessly lost in. Will it be crockery laid on a tray or a paper cup? The suspense is delicious but barely palatable. I quickly scan the shop and shit, the only spare seats are wrapped around my table! Abruptly my golden moment shatters into shards of panic as I sit on the precipice of despair; all that remains is the fear of impending humiliation. My blood runs cold with the realization that I’m not confident enough to survive in the presence of such ferocious beauty. My one strand of hope lies fragilely in the fact that this goddess seems blissfully unaware of just how beautiful she really is. This refreshing observation temporarily rejuvenates my soul but there is scant hope that her humility will make up for my dilapidated stock of self-confidence. My heart is now beating vigorously amidst a sea of fretful anticipation. Drink in or takeaway, surely my destiny hasn’t come down to this? She’s Barcelona and I’m Dagenham & Redbridge, so probably not. But here I still sit on tenterhooks like a petrified defendant waiting for the jury to deliver their potentially damming verdict. I feel compelled to stand but that would look ridiculous. Finally the result is in! Here comes the order….