Coffee Portrait
Unlike most teenagers, I actually enjoyed waking up early for my summer job. It gave me an excuse to drink coffee everyday, and where there’s coffee, there’s Josh. He worked at the coffee place a couple of blocks away from the insurance company where I worked. Every morning, on the bus, I would think about him and I almost missed my stop, once, because of it. I always pictured him in his uniform because I have never seen him in anything else.
Josh was a young, thin guy. His navy khakis were a bit loose on him. His black belt never did a good job holding up his pants. It made his torso seem longer. His green collared shirt fit him perfectly. The three buttons at the top were always unbuttoned, showing a few dark brown chest hairs that would normally disgust me, but the fact that there were the only part of his chest I would ever see, made me want to see them.
He had a goatee that made him look older than he really was. It surrounded his pouty lips that released a raspy voice saying, “Morning! How may I help you?” Everyday, I would say the same thing, “Coffee. Black. Please.” At that time, I would take my mother’s advice and look him in the eyes whenever I gave him my order. I thanked my mother everyday for that because I have never seen such gorgeous eyes. They were blue, but you would swear they were green because of his shirt. Some days, his dark brown hair would cover his eyes slightly and blend in with his thick eyebrows. His nose was a little large for his face, but I didn’t mind it. Maybe it was the tiny beige freckles that went from the bridge of his nose to his pale cheeks that made his nose look cute.
One day, towards the end of the summer, I made a plan to “accidentally” touch his soft hands as he gave me my coffee. I got off of the bus and walked to the coffee shop noticing a “Help Wanted” sign. I walked in with pep in my step and waited on line. By the time I reached the counter, I was wearing my most flirtatious smile, but that was quickly wiped away when Josh was nowhere to be found. There were no strands of chest hair, and blue eyes to see. There were no soft hands to touch. I just had my coffee and my eight hour work day.
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