Stacey Costner- Your Independent Coffee Shop

The smothering smell of coffee had used every opportunity over the past six hours to wiggle its way into each crevice of her tired body.  Each day she spent these important hours of her young life inside a dim, dusty, boxcar of a space filled by happy socialites on their lunch breaks or life breaks, as they were.  It wouldn't have been so dingy if it weren't for the contrast of the big, expansive windows that lined one entire wall.  Somehow these windows were transparent enough to display the beautiful, sunny day on the other side of the glass but solid enough to hide the whipping wind that would undoubtedly disturb the inner ear canals of anyone so lucky to be on the other side. She spent her time anxiously scanning the parking lot for the arrival of new cars.  In between cars she daydreamed of running through a field of wildflowers until she collapsed.  Since she couldn't go outside, she only had the prospect of what might come inside to look forward to, or to dread.  With the arrival of the blue Toyota truck her body clinched in discomfort. 

 

"Hey there darling.  Well, don't you look cute today." said Joe as he sauntered through the door as if the café were his home and she were his trophy wife. 

 

He looked her up and down like he always did, commenting on her colorful attire.  Admittedly, she preferred Joe's physical approach.  The others were less direct.  They wanted to know "how is your day going". And "Shitty, thank you.  I want to get the hell out of here and into the sunshine" was not an appropriate answer.  Or worse, they wanted to know what you were doing this weekend or what magazine you were looking at the other day when you were on your break trying to avoid eye contact.  As if it wasn't enough to have her attention, her time, her body, now they wanted her soul too.  They wanted to be a part of her life as if this dull and claustrophobic scene was somehow reminiscent of it. 

 

She had learned by now to keep a healthy distance and a quiet smile, neither of which came naturally. She started working in coffee shops for the freedom of thought, speech, even dress that has always been associated with these Meccas of philosophy and creativity.  And there she stood in her tie-died company t-shirt with no escape from his eyes, the intrusive smell, the slogan that adorned her shirt "we make you smile."  The job she had started as a commitment to an unconventional lifestyle had turned into a conventional trap.

 

And just like that she served Joe his coffee in a paper cup saying, "Hope you have a good day, Joe."