Westville Comfort
The sky echoed my solumn that rainy Friday. Life has drug me through the mud a lot lately. Work has been difficult pulling multiple doubles to cover for people, who quite frankly couldn’t care less about even showing up. Mom and Dad have been fussing over bills and house repairs. The only one that seemed to have no care was Dad’s Labrador, Bruce, who would lay around and stare out the window at the passing cars all day.
In the midst of the struggles and stress of home life, I felt like I was in a waking dream. For the past month, the same dream played over and over again like a song on repeat. I would glance across the room of the local coffee shop and I see her face.
Her soft amber eyes enhanced by her black glasses, fringe blonde hair, and a soft spoken voice that could comfort the loneliest of hearts. Her flannel shirt was covered by a denim jacket that lined with her khaki pants and leg knee high boots. And around her neck was a silver, heart shaped locket.
I can’t explain what it is about her, but my heart cries out to know more, to see her one more time, and to hear her voice echo like a favorite melody. I’ve never felt this way about someone before, nor was I exactly sure what I would even say to her.
“Hello”, felt to awkward. “I like your hair”, just felt creepy. I wasn’t even sure why I was questioning it. She was just a girl in my dreams, what were the chances we would even meet in real life?
No matter the reasons, no matter how ridiculous it felt, I had to see her. I had to find her. I had to…I had to try.
After a short ride, I hoped off the bus on 18th Street to our local bookstore and coffee shop: Westville Comfort. The humble wooden building wasn’t a large library of materials like many of the big box stores, but it was enough for me. The wafting smell of new books coupled with the scent of freshly brewed cups of pure excitement danced in my head and left me in a desire to stay here all day.
I shook off the all too familiar sensations and desires to browse their wares as I made my way to the coffee shop. The rain appeared to be keeping most of the locals at home. Half the Baristas were restocking or wiping down their stations, while one loan cashier stood at the ready, waiting for orders.
I glanced to the left and right, but most of the seats were vacant aside from a few patrons enjoying a cozy book and a streaming cup of coffee. I shared their desire to escape. That’s why I came prepared.
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