It was the start of a new week and the little café at the end of the street was bustling with business. Few moments passed without the brisk tinkle of a ringing bell, informing the waiters and guests that another customer had passed through the swinging front doors. Rays of sun streamed through open blinds, splashing beams of bright light onto the polished, tiled floor and creating a cheerful and carefree atmosphere that everyone was enjoying on this beautiful winter's morning. Everyone except quiet, bookish Mary Margaret Blanchard who was standing timidly in the doorway, tightly grasping a novel in her hands and scanning the crowded room for a spare table.
Mary Margaret had drifted in and out the café like a ghost every morning for the past month. The first time she entered through the swinging doors she had been trembling, which was partially due to the chilly winter weather outside. However, it was more from the prospect of acting so impetuously on the growing fixation that was so uncharacteristic of her reserved personality. She had paused slightly, deliberating on whether to turn away and step back into the comfort of her ordinary daily routine or take this big leap into the unknown. In the end, she tentatively made her way over to the counter, stammering to the waitress that she would like a hot chocolate please. Over in the corner booth she had slowly and mutely sipped the warm liquid, eyes staring blankly at the back wall where a clock was steadily ticking away each second. Every day after that, she would arrive at the café punctually at 7:10am, order something small to eat or drink and head straight toward the corner booth, sitting with her back to the door. When finished with her meal, she would return to the world outside the café walls, as if she had never been there.
No one considered Mary Margaret's recurring presence at the corner table to be peculiar in any way. After all, this was the trendiest café on the street and there were several regulars who delighted in commencing their hectic days with a delectable breakfast or a boost of caffeine from freshly brewed coffee. The continuous activity and the way the people were absorbed in their own personal issues caused subtle details in Mary Margaret's behaviour to pass unnoticed through everyone's surveillance. Ordinary onlookers would observe a young woman delving into the contents of a novel over her breakfast. But in actual fact, Mary Margaret had not read a single word in her book. Her pretence of reading was a means of disguising her vigilant checking of the clock on the back wall that was ordinarily overlooked by diners, and her eyes turning toward the door at each ringing of the bell. If anyone had noticed these movements, they would have thought Mary Margaret was anxious to meet someone. But no one ever passed her corner.
Among the numerous early birds continually flocking in and out during the early hours of daylight was David, one of the café's many regulars, who arrived at 7:15am every morning to purchase two take-away coffees. Many considered David to be a handsome man and there was a certain something in his air and manner of talking that delighted everyone he met. The café staff members were always sure to have David's usual orders made just moments before his 7:15am arrival, so as not to keep him waiting. During the brief moments he spent in the room, David was always oblivious of Mary Margaret sitting quietly in her corner, darting short but frequent glances in his direction as he made his payment over the counter and walked out with a cup in each hand.
On this particular Monday, the café was packed almost to capacity and Mary Margaret, upon her late arrival at 7:14am, was slightly rattled to see her usual corner occupied. After some moments of being frustrated at herself, she slipped on a veil of complete composure, ordered a drink and headed towards an available table near the counter. The moment she was settled in the wooden seat, which was exceedingly uncomfortable compared to her usual padded booth, the bell tinkled once more and Mary Margaret hastily opened her book to begin her customary pretence of being absorbed in its pages.
She felt someone approaching her from behind. Not daring to turn around or make any movement, she froze in her seat with the novel so close to her face it almost touched her nose. As the man's figure passed swiftly by the table Mary Margaret normally did not occupy, something made him stop suddenly in his tracks. He turned around to peer closer at the petite woman hunched up at the table and staring vaguely at the words in front of her.
"Good morning, Mary Margaret." The deep, hearty voice acknowledged her. Mary Margaret's heart lurched in her chest as she looked up to David's handsome, grinning face. With an insincerely surprised expression, she placed her book onto the table and greeted him back, beaming as if it were a complete coincidence to be encountering his delightful presence in the café on this particular morning.
As the two casually conversed about her occupation and his current state of health, Mary Margaret felt nostalgic for the days when they shared similar inanities together every day at the hospital. Currently, he looked a lot healthier and relaxed than the first time she had seen him immobilised on the hospital bed. He had made a remarkable recovery in the brief period of time spent there, vastly due to Mary Margaret's nursing and joking around. Now, in the café, Mary Margaret felt her heart melt as she heard his familiar laughter ring through the murmur of various conversations around them, more crisp and pleasing to the ear than the sound of any ringing bell. She longed for this blissful moment to last forever and to spend every ticking second of the clock in his company. But David's presence was needed elsewhere. After a final remark to Mary Margaret, he paid for the two cups waiting for him on the counter and exited the café.
Mary Margaret's smile slowly faded as David passed by her side. At the sound of the tinkling bell she peered over her shoulder to watch him get into a silver BMW, hand one coffee cup to the woman in the passenger's seat and exchange a quick kiss with her before driving off. Mary Margaret felt little needles jab into her heart and poison it with a bitter feeling. She turned to face the clock that she had become so dependent on in the past month and watched the hands continue progressing steadily around the face as they had always done. It was time to move on.
Leaving the full mug and unread book on the table, Mary Margaret rose from her seat and exited the café without a glance back. She never returned.