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He is always gone to the same bookstore. The one on the corner of Broadway and Lafayette. It's a quaint little place, not many people even know it exists. He wouldn't expect a spot like this to be in the hustle and bustle of downtown Manhattan. He stumbled upon it by mistake trying to find shelter from the downpour of rain that had just begun. The little black storefront doesn't even seem to have a name.
Every Sunday afternoon, He usually was the only one in the cafe, until he realized he's not. She sat in the opposite corner away from him. When he first saw her he didn't really see her, just the pile of books she hided behind. She always had the same drink in her dainty, little hands. When he snaked his way through the bookshelves it gives off the faintest hint of hazelnut and vanilla.
One brisk autumn morning, as the auburn leaves danced during their descent to the gray pavement below, he heard footsteps behind him, the slight crunched of leaves as someone stepped on them. He ever so slightly turned his head and he can tell it's her. The one from the bookstore. Again, all he saw were the pile of books she carried. Moments later he heard heavy objects fall from the grasp of her hands. Her books had fallen to the ground.
"Would you like some help with those?" He asked as she began to stack them once more. She looked at him and smiled. Her shining black eyes met his basic brown ones. Her wavy chocolate hair blows crazily behind her and he can't help but smiled.
"Uh, yeah sure," was all she said. He gathered a few of the books and cradled them in his arm. "Where are you headed to?" he asked playing dumb.
"Don't you already know?" she queried. "It's Sunday."
"Yeah, I know. I didn't want it to seem like I'm a creep because I'm not if that's what you're thinking," he said in a rush.
"I never thought that of you or else I wouldn't of entrusted you with my books," She looked down at them adoringly. "I know I've read them multiple times, but they're just so good and the plot line is just so fantastic that I can't seem to put them down." He looked at her. He saw a girl who is in love with the stories that unfold in between the two covers.
"I have a few books that I can never seem to keep my hands off of as well."
The conversation fell into a comfortable silence. As they neared the storefront, he quickened his pace just enough so he could pull open the heavy double doors. She ducked under his arm and raced to her corner. By the time he made his way back there she was already nestled beneath the window reading one of the many novels. He set the rest of them down and began to walk away without saying another word. She stopped him.
"I don't even know your name so how can I thank you for being so kind to me today," she said as her eyes peek above the rim of the book.
"The name is Daya," He said, "and what is yours?"
"My name is Shreya."
"Well, it's nice to finally meet you, Shreya." He turned to walk away once more, but yet again she stopped him.
"If you'd like, you can join me," she said quietly.
He had to strain his ears to hear what she had just said. He turned slowly and took a few steps back to her book covered table and started to pull out a chair to join her when he realized that the intriguing aroma that swirls around her wasn't there.
With his hand on the back of the chair, quietly he asked "Would you like something to drink?"
It took her a moment to realize he spoke to her. She raised her eyes up and nodded her head yes. And buried her face back into her book. He stood there wondering what to do. He turned to see who was making the coffee today and thankfully it was the same girl that was there every Sunday. He hurried to the counter and asked if she knew what the girl in the corner with the table of overflowing books would order every Sunday.
"You mean Shreya?" said the girl behind the counter.
"Yes, Shreya," He said holding his breath, hoping she knew the concoction Shreya drank every time she was here.
"Oh she drinks Hazelnut coffee with a squirt of vanilla," the girl said.
"Will you please make one for Shreya? And I will have one too."
As he stood patiently waiting for the coffees to be made, he watched Shreya's hands so carefully turn to the next page. She was transported to the pages of the book. Her eyes follow the words so elegantly. As stray pieces of her hair fall across her face she pushes them away becoming irritated. The coffee's were set down in front of him and he didn't even realize it because he couldn't take his eyes off of her.
"Umm... your coffee's are ready," the barista behind the counter said eyeing him, questioning silently.
"Oh, thanks," Said Daya searching for the name tag she wasn't wearing. He stood there awkwardly for a few moments finding the spare change he kept in his back pocket and threw it down on the counter. Finally, he walked away, towards the girl in the corner. She popped up out of her seat, almost knocking him over, and grabbed her steaming drink from his hands.
"Thanks," Said Shreya. She stared at him for a few moments before sitting back in her chair. She had one hand on the coffee cup as her other one flipped her book back over.
"Did you bring something to read with you today?" asked Shreya.
He shook his head yes and dug into his bag to get out the book he had been trying to read every Sunday for weeks. As he pulled the book out of his bag, he heard Shreya say, "Oh that's a good one."
They quietly sat reading their books until the light of the day settled and the barista was telling them that it was time to close up.
"Thanks for the coffee and reading with me. I know I get wrapped up in my books and forget there's an actual world around me," said Shreya.
"You're welcome. I enjoyed my day too," He said, "Maybe we can do this next Sunday?"
"I wish I could but my dad took a new job in London. We leave this week. This was my last Sunday here. Thank you for making it so memorable," said the girl he daydreamed about every Sunday.
He didn't know what to say. He just stood there staring at her as she walked out the door. The last he saw of her was her cascading brown hair whipping behind her as the door slammed shut.
****-The End-****