It was the first cold morning of the fall. The summer must be over for good, thought Carol as she tugged her shirt trying to keep warm. Usually she got hot easily. Was the one trying to turn the thermostat lower. But today she had not anticipated this chill. Had left the house with only a flannel shirt that could work in either a cool summer day or a warm autumn one.
Carol was not suffering. Her office had central cooling and heating. It was only on this short walk that she felt the elements. Since the encounter was so brief, she enjoyed it in a way. Sort of like the
cold showers
that her husband took. Apparently the pain was good. She struggled to understand the premise. But she imagined that it was sort of like weightlifting. Where the burn was good and desired. One, because it made you stronger and two, because it was temporary.
She made the final stretch to
Espresso Royale
on
Baker Ave.
She thought about her
body heat
dissipating into the air. About how much energy it took to just stay alive. A hopeless thought. Then she saw the warm light peeking out through the slit windows of the garage door that Espresso Royale used to close off the patio from the cold in the winter. She could feel the fire from here. Not literally. But through emotion. An allure to it.
When her husband asked why Carol still went to the cafe she couldn't explain. She thought now of how if he could feel what she was feeling now. The way that the fireplace inside beckoned her within those brick walls and large windows. Then he would understand.
Things that couldn't be shared in words. In the verbal world Carol felt weak. Her desires didn't make sense. Not to him at least. He had bought her a
Keurig
years ago. But when she didn't use it enough he thought maybe it was due to the lacking quality. So when they were finally making enough money he had researched the best quality
espresso
machine that also made mixed drinks like lattes and cappuchinos and bought that for her. Even installed it in her office and poured the first drink himself by pressing a few buttons.
But alas. Carol never used it long term. She went back to the cafe. The one a few blocks down from her new office.
She had gone there during university. Taken a pause from it as she moved away to begin her career in a bigger city. And had resumed once she returned with her now husband to start her own practice.
Inside were people scrunched up. Sweaters were out. Coats even. People had come prepared. She looked for the man that always sat here on Mondays and Fridays. She called him the Slow Man because of how slowly he drank his drink. It was almost always a
cappuccino
that he would be nursing as he stared out into space. Every so often he would check his phone quick. And sometimes he would jump up into action and leave after seeing his phone. But most of the times he would put it again face down on the tabletop. The Slow Man never scrolled through his phone. Never sat there staring at it.
She observed this about The Slow Man from afar. Or as far as you could get while in a cafe. You could sit in a table where you were in direct line of sight of someone. And you could sit where it would take deliberate action on their part to see you. The latter is where Carol sat.
The Slow Man wasn't in today though. That was strange. Monday morning. He was here without fail every Monday morning since she had gotten back into town. Maybe he was on vacation or sick.
She ordered a latte with almond milk. Sat in the patio enclosed by the windowed garage door. Right by the fire. And sipped slow. Thought about her latest client. double. triple. quadruple. quintuple. sextuple, etc etc.
Could a man truly be that affected by something so seemingly... simple? Carol became numb to the psychological pathologies of her clients. She had seen such a variety that they no longer affected her in a way where she'd ruminate it outside of the office. But Jared's she did.