by: Monmon

Greeted by fellow numbed coffee-enthusiasts, I found a hostile sit for two at the attic. The lady barista warmly greeted me, as if she knew me. I gave a nod then asked for my coffee drip.

“House-blend decaff, tall size, for here, in a mug please,” I said, before she could further clarify my desired brew herself. She asked me if I wanted to add banana bread or ensaymada.

I thought maybe she remembered my usual must-have orders before. But I doubt it. That was almost six months ago. Before I could pay, I grabbed two chocolate wafer sticks and placed them on the tray.

The barista then asked me, “Kamusta na kayo?” I just took my change, took it as crew’s hospitality, and tried to smile. Yeah. She remembered me. Nothing significant really changed with the way I looked, anyway. I dress the same just as before, and perhaps that made me easy to recognize.

At the back of my mind I wondered, “Siya kaya, naaalala din ako? Uh, nah, forget about her.”

I could feel the warmth of my perfectly blended coffee with six sachets of brown sugar in it as its aroma blended with the air. The cheese of my ensaymada melted well that it only took me four bites to consume it.

Wow, that morning seemed to be like a completely worry-free day – no deadlines, no heavy workload, and no reason to hurry up for office. It was past 11 a.m.

Minutes later, I grabbed my jacket and loose sketchpad, and headed out of the store. I didn’t take my usual pathway as I went back to work that day. I took the short cuts instead to get to the office faster. I trekked the two-meter wide pedestrian walkway between the two enclosed parking lots fronting the two gargantuan twin towers where I work.

What I thought was a “one fine day” instantly seemed to turn out the opposite. My mind suddenly clouded as I saw Christine walking across my direction. She looked more beautiful than ever in her red tops! Though I love to see those smiles perfectly drawn on her face, her pretty eyes and fragile lips, I felt so ashamed that I can’t even lift my head and look at her in the eye. Instead, I played stupid, pretended that I was busy “texting” and in a hurry, and didn’t even recognize her. I herd my heartbeat thump louder than my footsteps, as our paths got closer. The walkway is too narrow that I felt our shoulders almost touched. Collided. I was freezing cold hearing her sweet voice once again while she was speaking to her companions walking before her.

I’m not sure if she ignored me too by purpose but somehow it’s a good thing she didn’t bother to greet me. I could’ve said or done the most “duh” thing if she did still try to get my attention. Though I have a few memorized lines prepared before hand, I knew at that certain moment, nothing would come out of my mouth. I still love her.

She was the person the lady barista was referring to, earlier at the coffee shop when she asked me “Kamusta na kayo?”.

Six months ago, I asked the same lady barista to buy flowers at the nearby stall secretly, and give it to Christine. They would normally serve our orders a little delayed then because the concoction she loves take a worthy time to prepare, and it would be perfect then if together upon serving is a bouquet of peach Columbian mums to fire up my café diskarte.

But the moons and the stars were not generous that day that our cupid collaboration never transpired. Instead, in a rainy afternoon, a teary-eyed conversation happened exactly where I sat earlier that morning.