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I sat alone at the coffee shop. It was just me and the waiters. I often wondered what they thought of me, a young woman sitting alone at a coffee shop at 7 p.m. on a Friday night. I wished I had my books with me, so I could simply drown in its words. I had some coffee and biscuits, but only to justify my stay. I told the waiter that in an hour time I would be having dinner. Good God! I had to wait a whole hour, just sitting there. It was getting dark so I looked outside the window, were there were kids playing. But after a while a realized they must have thought I was some kind of pervert that came to a cafe to stare at little children, so I quickly diverted my gaze to my cell phone were I wrote this. The waiters chatted and settled the things for dinner; from time to time I could feel their judgmental looks. The music in the background blended with the sounds from the TV creating a horrible atmosphere. Of course, the waiters chatting about sports didn't make it any better. One of the waitresses recognized me and approached my table, forcing me to engage in small talk as she settled the table next to mine. We talked about the cold weather and the kids that played outside without their coats on. Then she left without another word.
I mentally patted myself on the back for deciding to sit inside. My God, it had passed only twenty minutes! It felt like eternity. Thoughts of whether the money I had on my wallet would suffice flooded my head. The place wasn't very expensive; the thing was that I was short in cash. Inside my long coat I only had a phone and my wallet, that to be honest I was afraid that when I opened it I would get allergies from all the dust.
I could tell the waiters pitied me because yet another one approached me to talk about my career. He comfortably leaned against the opposite chair, retelling anecdotes about his career in design. After a while he left. Minutes later, a man entered the bar making my heart stop at the sound of the door opening. He talked eagerly to the waiters, had coffee and left. The waitresses talked about the trouble one was having with her internal pluming, it was disgusting. Then they all went into the kitchen leaving me all alone. One came after a while, setting the menus and chatted with the blonde one. It was ten to eight and not a soul in the dinner, I wondered if I asked for dinner being the only one they would be angry because I made the cook work only for me. I knew he wasn't working because from time to time he would peek from the window on the door separating the café from the kitchen; he had a glass of wine in his hand.
A Michael Jackson song sounded through the speakers making me remember my time in the schools choir before the teacher kicked me out. She was a real bitch. I remembered when I told him this; he laughed and told me the teacher was a fool and that it was her loss. He could be very sweet when he wanted. But he could also be very cruel. And his cruelty was the reason that made me ran away and hide in the local café. His selfishness made me leave a little note tapped to the staircase saying I was leaving. But his big heart, as hidden as it might be, prevented me from leaving town, from leaving him. So I waited there, knowing he would find me, silently wishing he would cross that door and grab me by my golden locks and toss me in a cellar inside his mansion and never let me out. The sick pleasure of being owned by him had become and addiction. He made me feel strong and weak at the same time. He made me feel like a queen and like a peddler. A waiter approached me and gave me a menu, when she saw my confused face she said "you told me that in an hour I should bring you the menu. That was an hour ago" I smiled and as she settled my table I decided to go for the beef. A man in his fifty's entered with his son that was twenty something. They looked at me once and sat on the other end of the bar; they toned the football match and had a couple of beers. By that time I was digging in on a slice of apple pie. A little girl and her father entered the dinner; she was on her blue school uniform and he had a blue sweater. She grabbed her daddy's phone and started talking to her mom while pacing around. She had a lovely braiding on her long blonde hair. I asked for the tab and a noise startled me. And there he was, sitting on a faraway table, watching me. He looked displeased. He was tapping his fingers against the table. We looked at each other as in a staring contest. He was so handsome. When he started to walk slowly to me I could swear my dead heart stopped. He sat on the opposite chair.
"Hello, love" He said and his voice was low. He smirked as in saying 'I found you, I win'.
"Klaus" I greeted him, my voice a little shaky but I masked. I felt guilty for trying to leave him. I felt ashamed. He stared at me while I stood up; he followed me close behind as I walked to his car. We both got in and he drove us home, our home. Once again I had succumbed to him, I loved him, I was his. I couldn't leave him, he was part of me. He intoxicated my system with his love and I became addicted to his love, to his hate, to him.
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