"You need to try to open up to others Elsa, or you're always going to be stuck on your own. There's going to be a point where you're going to need someone, who isn't your therapist and no one will be there because of how much you isolate yourself."

Dr. Olaf Valenstein, my therapist and unethically, my only friend. He was a short man with a milky complexion and had the nose offensive shows give to all jewish characters. He probably had three remaining strands of hair on his head and had a silly bucktooth smile.

"I know, but it's easier said than done. Jesus, I'm fucking 19 and I can't have a normal conversation with someone unless I'm paying them."

"If you keep that cynical outlook, you'll run out of options. This next week the goal is to talk to one person, it doesn't matter what, but as long as you initiate the conversation and share one thing about yourself, you'll have made progress."

"Fine. Don't be surprised if I haven't had a single conversation with someone."

He chuckled, "Elsa, knowing that I asked and am looking forward to hearing your experience means you'll have some sort of story to tell me next week. It's 9:00, you have class in 30 minutes. See you next week."

"Thank you Dr. Valenstein."

The fall air was crisp and my breath fogged my glasses as I walked to my physics class. Leaves crunched and I created scenarios where I would ask someone how their day was or talk about enjoying the inside the science building, the warm air reddened my cheeks and my face began to defrost. Professor Maurice was late again, well not late, just not in his classroom before class started. I leaned against the wall next to the classroom and sighed. Looking to my right, the a huge window framed an image of a huge oak tree and underneath it was this really attractive guy with white hair. I have no idea why I was attracted to him, maybe we were lovers in a past life and our souls are forever wandering in search of each other, or just my personal sexual frustration. Spiritual or not, I wanted to fuck him. He was always with a sketch pad and did that adorable thing where he bit his lower lip while he was deep in thought. God, I'm a creep, but fuck that's what happens when you've never dated anyone… Or had about two friends on average… OR have body image issues and don't allow anyone to touch you. Ever.

"First one again, Ms. Johnsson?"

"Yes sir."

"Well, good morning."

"Good morning."

Perfect example of my conversations. Four lines.

I dreamt of that guy under the oak tree. It wasn't a wet dream, just a very sweet one where I was wearing a sundress and a big sun hat while my lap cradled his head. Corny as hell, but also cute. Yes, we were in a meadow. And yes we were under an oak tree. The fluffiness of the dream almost made me vomit but still enjoy the aftertaste.

Snow, (yes her name is Snow, her mom was a stripper, and her name was Summer. She thought it would be cute if she had an S theme in their family, she has another daughter named fucking Spirit) couldn't make it to work so I had to cover her. Her boyfriend also wasn't working the shift so they were probably fucking at his apartment and afterwards ordering a pizza and watching Netflix. Chill and then Netflix, I guess I would call that relationship goals, it's not like I'm not envious. I just think both of them are complete idiots and her boy Michael doesn't like condoms because "they feel weird and I don't know how they could actually work," I don't think the world is ready for the Jesus of the dumbasses.

The coffee shop as a typical hipster oasis where the coffee is fair trade, organic, non GMO, and gluten free. Yep, gluten free coffee… I can't say anything. The pastries are of the same hippie caliber and the walls were scattered with obscure French jazz and Scandinavian metal bands. The furniture was faded and smelt like dust and bookshelves were filled with Independent and unknown poets and magazines from the 90s. Overall it was pretty rad. Like an eccentric art teacher. And the name was pretty amazing too, "The Singin' Bean"... I have no words, fantastic.

I work as a barista and a cashier, the place isn't a Starbucks so only the hipsters, loners, stoners and old folks come here. The place just got wifi 3 months ago and the owners had to come up with a completely new menu to keep their café alive. Now we had "coffee frapps" and macchiatos, oh yeah. They weren't bad at all, I liked them, but the other baristas didn't know how to make one that tasted good.

"Oh dear I have no idea what to get." A sweet old woman was standing in front of me and looking up at the chalkboard menu.

"What are you in the mood for?" I asked with a smile. I hated talking to people my own age, but kids and old people were great. They didn't beat around the bush.

"Coffee, but I don't know what these other kinds are."

"Would you like it hot or cold?"

"Cold coffee? Wow, things have changed. Hmm I suppose I could try it."

"Would you like cream and sugar?"

"Oh yes please."

"Would you like that as a frappé or on the rocks?"

"I wanna see was this frap thing is."

I chuckled, "yes ma'am. Size?"

"Oh small please."

"Alright, I'll have that ready for you in just a moment."

"Thank you dear."

After my shift I noticed the same old lady sitting outside on the bench in front of the cafe. She was reading a book and had finished her coffee, I might as well say good bye, I actually enjoyed her. Then it dawned on me, I still hadn't had a conversation like Dr. Valenstein had asked me to do. Oh shit, well, I could do this, she was a sweet old woman, not a dumb 18-year-old.

"Did you enjoy the coffee?"

The old woman stopped and looked to the right. I was on her left.

"Excuse me?" I asked again.

She looked to her left, finally, with a look of innocent confusion.

"Oh hello again dear, lovely day." her wrinkles outlined her smile and the glint in her eyes reflected the young state of mind she held.

"Yes ma'am, very beautiful. Did you like the iced coffee?"

She laughed, "Oh yes, it was refreshing, my my, things have changed, sometimes I wonder how you kids come up with these things."

I wouldn't consider an iced coffee the innovative rival of the smartphone, but I guess when I'm at that same age there's going to be some pretty weird shit so I have no place to judge.

"Haha, well you know the Italians have been doing crazy things with coffee for a while now." I think.

"I lived in Italy for a year with my late husband, he was a pilot you see."

"What was his name?"

"Charles James Frost. The Englishman that swooned me with the glance of his ocean blue eyes."

I smiled at the idea of how well she preserved her husband's image. She was a 14-year-old girl in an elderly woman's body. A fresh mind with an aging body.

"He sounds dreamy when you say it like that." I giggled.

"He was the stuff of dreams, I bet you they based a prince off of him in the pictures. He might not be here now but, he's taken up so much of my heart that he'll always be some part of me. That's when you've found someone, when you each give a piece of yourself to the other to always keep."