The Silly Reason

She sifted her fingers through her pocket, the cold coins warming in her hands, making awkward music as she walked down the sidewalk peering into the windows of the old Victorian-style houses. She thought for a moment, what it would be like to run around in the well-kept gardens, traced with bushes short enough to show off the landscape yet keeping it closed, private. She thought about the warmth of the sun, radiating through the canopy of the tall oak trees, bending over the delicately painted relics dangerously, like old men leaning on their canes; their bones cracking under the breath of the wind.

It was raining, so she hid underneath her hood and wrapped the scarf around her nose, breathing in and out, the moisture from her mouth collecting in microscopic beads on the cloth. She was half-way to class, but had not completely convinced herself to attend. She was becoming wet from the rain and the coffee shop on the corner emanated a warmth welcome to any cold stranger walking along the street. Come in, have some tea, it said simply.

She laid down a dollar and two quarters by the register as the young man behind the counter, his beard hovering above the steam from the freshly brewed coffee, prepared her cup; she wondered what it smelled like. She thought about a woman nuzzling his face at night, her nose receiving the smell of warm, buttery coffee as she fell gently to sleep. Perhaps the aroma was enough to ignore the acne scarred face beneath it; the enticing scent of a french roast mingled with a whiff of faint vanilla. People fell in love for weird reasons.

Whenever she skipped class she thought about the lesson she was missing; what were they talking about? Was it noticeable that she was gone? Did they think she was sleeping and not fully awake, experiencing the earlier hours of her morning exploring directionless thoughts on the bearded barista? She hoped they didn't find her useless or dumb.

She noticed her pocket no longer jingled; it was a silent hole with a silent, sweaty hand coiled inside it, sleeping like a rabbit. Sipping her coffee, she held her face above the steam, letting it cling to her; the moisture warm and suddenly cool. Perhaps she too could be loved, perhaps she too just needed to offer a silly reason.