»
Main Forums
»
Passions in Prose
»
Daisy Chain Reaction
| Passions in Prose |
|
Daisy Chain Reaction |
|
|
Asparagus Junior Member
since 2000-01-20
Posts 10Australia |
There is a young man of about 19 or 20 standing behind the counter. His fingers tap in time to the distant radio music that is playing in the back room. There is a dull buzz, almost a moan coming from the same radio and the imaginary flies are swooping around everyone's ears. He wipes and re-wipes a clean spot on his counter, wiping away at nothing in particular. He breathes in slowly and stares at the different objects strategically placed on his pretty polished counter. His eyes wander to the walls, the floors, the ceiling, outside, just searching for something interesting, but failing pathetically. On the centre table there are four 15 year old girls, giggling and laughing while eating their salads. They drink freshly squeezed orange juice and hold their heads high with false pride. Their hands wave about enthusiastically as they speak and they can’t sit still on the hard wooden chairs. A young lawyer in one corner has her head buried in the newspaper and she sips loudly at her caffeine loaded coffee. Her hands shake as she turns the pages quickly. Her face is styled and her eyes do not leave her own pocket-sized world. Sitting near the window there is a man of about 30, checking his watch constantly. Tapping his fingers nervously on his green coffee cup and staring deeply into it’s murky contents, he sits slouched in his chair, eyes drooping. He looks around distractedly and sighs loudly as gushes of stale air pour out of sagging lungs. An old couple nearby sit and sip weak tea. With shaky hands, their teacups rattle and clink. Their dry lips crack with slow movement as they talk. He smokes a cigar and she fiddles with her grey and perfect hair. Looking around they see the young people surrounding them, their heads drop and eyes stare at the patterned lilac floor. Outside a young girl peers in through the plastic lace curtains. She smiles and makes her way to the door, pushing it open. The predictable little bell rings on cue and she saunters through to an empty table at the back of the cafe. As she sits down she brushes her long charcoal hair away from her face and briefly studies the typical red and white checked table cloth. Folding her legs to get comfortable she breathes in a deep breath. She exhales loudly and rubs her eyes, sweeping the room for interest. The young man from behind the counter makes his way unhurriedly towards the girl. He clears his pitiful throat and asks the girl with charcoal hair if she would like to order anything. She shifts her travelling eyes to his poised pen and note book and says “Yes please, I’ll have a glass of water”. He looks curiously at her and asks “Is that all?” and she nods her head mystically. The 15 year old girls have an outburst of laughter and one of them knocks over a glass of orange juice. The glass smashes on the floor and it’s orange fluid spreads everywhere, the two very different colours of the floor and juice clashing violently. The small-minded girls squeal and give insincere looks of apology to the young guy, but they continue to laugh. He picks up a cloth and gets the mop from the back room and starts to clean up their mess, their food scraps and rubbish. They make no attempt to get out of the way, to make it easier for him. The girl with charcoal hair gets up and walks over to the table of girls. She bends over and picks up pieces of broken glass from the floor and looks at the glass inquisitively, putting it on the table. The cafe boy looks up from his mop and smiles briefly. Together they clean up the mess, in between the legs of the girls and their shiny new brand name shoes. The girls eventually pack up their things and move out of the cafe, filing out like llamas in chains. The cafe guy says to the helpful stranger “Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that” “No I didn’t , but I don’t mind” she states simply. “Thanks anyway” he says, truly smiling for the first time that day. She smiles back, white teeth shining like tiny stars. The cafe boy notices a fresh daisy chain around her neck. He takes his mop bucket and rags into the back room and starts to rinse out the dirty cleaning utensils. The broken glass sits in the middle of the table where the noisy 15 year old girls once sat and pretended to be 20. The chairs are messy and the missing flower that the girls stole makes it’s disappearance felt. Now the table looks bare, messy and dull, the only hint of excitement given by the sun shining through the window onto the orange juice sodden table cloth. The charcoal haired girl picks up the glass with care and she places it in a bag on the counter. She straightens up the chairs and removes the stained orange table cloth, putting it next to the shattered glass. Instinctively she pulls off her daisy chain from around her neck and places one of the little daisies in the vase. The old lady is staring at her with wide eyes and still hands and the girl walks over and gives a daisy to the old lady. The old lady smiles gratefully and her face opens, her eyes turning into a deep blue and her hair definitely turning a light shade of blonde in the persistent sunlight. Her partner chortles and his eyes brighten, his wife’s joy mirrored on his own face. The young cafe boy returns and finds the table neat and tidy, the glass and table cloth placed neatly on the bench and the small daisy in the vase. He looks at the silk haired stranger and smiles wonderingly. She is standing in the middle of the cafe, stretching her arms and back, yawning loudly. Her exhale is once again loud and uncontained and she is making herself seen. The 30 year old man looks up at her and then his stare returns to his coffee cup that has not been touched, he sighs quietly. The girl walks over to him and smiles. He looks up again, but doesn’t smile. The girl gives him one of the flowers from her daisy chain and he sits and stares at the lonely flower sitting in his hand. His eyes well up with tears and his hand suddenly grips the tiny flower, squashing it. He opens his hand and stares at the now mangled flower in his hand. The girl steps back from him, giving him space to breathe and move. The guy gets up out of his chair makes his way to the door. His feet shuffle and the quiet sweeping is echoed through the cafe. The cafe boy has been watching her. Watching her movement, the way she walks, the way her eyes flicker rapidly when she has a thought, the way she touches her black silk hair. He is mesmerised by her devastating beauty and his eyes cannot lift from her face. The girl turns to face him and she walks over to him slowly. She places her incomplete daisy chain on the counter between them. Looking down at it he smiles. He opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off and says “Keep some flowers on your counter, everyday. You will never know who needs a flower next, but everyone needs a flower sometime”. He smiles at her loudly and nods his head with understanding. She takes one flower off from the daisy chain and passes it to the cafe boy. She looks over at the lawyer lady sitting in the corner and then looks back at the cafe boy. He knows and smiles. As he makes his way over to the preoccupied lady, the charcoal haired girl makes her way out of the cafe. The bells give a little tinkle as the door opens and closes and the cafe boy looks up only to see a half empty cafe and no black-haired stranger. His eyes fall, but rise once again as he feels the little daisy in his hand. He walks straight over to the lawyer lady and says “Ummm excuse me, would you like a flower?........” |
||
| © Copyright 2000 Emily - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
Welcome to Passions! What a wonderful little tale you have written here! I didn't quite know where you would or could take this from the begining, but I found it a very good read. "...everyone needs a flower sometime" A good sentiment. < !signature--> In flames I shall not be consumed, but reborn. -- Abrahm Simons [This message has been edited by Dusk Treader (edited 01-23-2000).] |
||
|
Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
Welcome to Passions! Sorry my reply is so late coming, but welcome anyway! Great read here, if I may suggest a few more paragraph breaks though...  |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
