This one shot story was inspired by a Peter Capaldi doppelganger I saw at my local Starbucks. This is a totally different kind of writing style for me, and I had a lot of fun with it. As always, read, review, and be kind. And never eat pears!
The cold V8 engine of my red mustang stuttered slightly as I navigated the curve out of my driveway onto the street in front of my house. Long, grey road stretched ahead, and I put the pedal to the floor to point my way toward the ole 9 to 5. The sun glinted off the hood into my eyes and I reached upward blindly, fumbling for the visor to pull it down to block the dagger of light. I hadn't had time to grab coffee before work, and I yawned. We would be short staffed today and I knew some java had to happen or the morning was going to be garbage. Nearing the turn onto the country road that would shortcut me to town, I glimpsed a bright orange diamond to my right. Great. I squinted through the morning blurriness of my eyeballs, partly compounded by my need for glasses as well as my refusal to wear them.
"Fresh Oil."
Great.
I would have to go the long way around.
That path would take me out of my Dunkin coffee route but would take me straight by a Starbucks. Perfect.
I reached over with one hand and hit a few buttons on my phone to turn on some music. Pandora's Disney channel blared, and I hit the volume button a few times to lower the decibels. Something was going to have to keep me awake until the caffeine came my way, but I wanted to retain my eardrum's quality at the same time. Perhaps ordering ahead would help. I glanced by instinct at the clock on my center console only to find it reading 3:25. Well, that wasn't right. I sighed as I remembered that I hadn't reset it after having some repairs done and I think the battery disconnection resets the clock. Put that on the to do list for this week. Taking my eyes off the road for a half second, I saw on my phone display that it was twenty minutes until I had to be at my office. That was enough time to get the java fix. I hit a couple more buttons, glancing from the phone to the road and back again, stupidly and dangerously multitasking. Finally, the green Place Order button popped up, and I hit it as fast as my thumb reflex would work. Satisfied, I dropped the phone into the cupholder next to me and sat back in the seat. It would be a good morning.
It only took me about fifteen minutes to get myself on the right road across from the smiling green statue of liberty that would bring me much needed alertness and freedom from my late-night exhaustion. "Bring me your huddles masses, yearning to breathe free from the bondage of one o'clock bedtimes." I eased into the turn lane, keeping a careful eye on the oncoming lane. In a few more cars it would be all clear, and I could make the turn I needed.
Moments later, I was parking in the lot. Coffee coming right up.
Pushing open the front door of the shop, I breathed in the blend of roasted coffee and warm breakfast sandwiches. Whomever manages to bottle that will make millions. Make it a candle and call it 'The Starbucks Blend.' Or the 'Millennial Addiction.'
Genius.
"Good morning!" the barista called across the room. I glanced her way and gave a tired smile. "'Morning." I replied, nodding. She was busy helping a customer, so I stepped to the side of the room that was labeled for To Go orders.
I have always been a people watcher and today was no exception. There was only one other customer in the shop. A tall, lean man, silver slightly curly hair stuck out from under the black mask he wore. Dark sunglasses covered nearly the other half of his face. He wore a casual outfit. A black shirt that somehow spoke of half fitness and half classiness clung to his chest in 'that' way that a shirt does that makes a girl's heart miss a half a beat. He wore black track pants with a white stripe perfectly down the middle, once again giving the idea of a man who was an easy jogger, but the air of masculinity and class about him spoke of something greater than a man simply fresh from a morning run before work.
Bottle that and make it a candle. Call it 'The Guy A Girl Wants'. Not kidding. Go ahead and make millions. I insist.
Anyhow, he gave her the money and she gave him a paper cup of coffee. He took it carefully, balancing it on lean fingers, a motion that clearly indicated this was not his prize, but one retrieved for someone else. There was something intimidatingly familiar about him, and it niggled at my tired brain. I knew him, but yet I didn't.
"Oh, and here's your black coffee," the barista tending him spoke cheerfully, handing him a second cup. His fingers closed around its sides possessively. Aha, that one was his.
He nodded his thanks and turned from the counter. Massive grey eyebrows knit in thought as he balanced the small cups in his hands and moved away toward the door.
"Can I help you?" the lady asked, leaving the register to come to my aid. I took my eyes off the strangely familiar man to provide her my name and order number.
"Here you go," she smiled, and I gratefully took the cup from her hands. Iced coffee with almond milk. Perfect.
Long day and lots of nonsense later, I snuggled up with my DVD's and my bedtime tea, preparing to turn off my bedtime alarm yet again and greet the midnight hours.
I turned on my DVD player where I had left off. Doctor Who was my current jam, and I was eager to see what happened next. I turned it on just as Clara, the Doctor's current companion was asking him where he had been.
DOCTOR: You sent me for coffee.
CLARA: Three weeks ago. In Glasgow.
DOCTOR: Three weeks, that's a long time.
CLARA: In Glasgow. That's dead in a ditch.
DOCTOR: It's not my fault, I got distracted.
CLARA: By what?
DOCTOR: You can always find something. Come on.
And as he pulled her off on an adventure, I was left staring wide eyed at the screen.
The Doctor had come to my town.
To get coffee.
He got distracted getting coffee.
Should I be concerned?