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by Brandon Nobach

I sit in the corner of the shop at the small circular table, with an empty chair in front of me. In the center of the table is a large cup of steaming cider that IÊsip from occasionally. I look around at the surrounding scenes of the people in the cafe.

The workers bustle around behind the counter. All are wearing the apron with the symbol of a mermaid on it. One is at the register, a tall blonde woman her hair at shoulder length is taking the orders from the customers. After writing the orders on the cups she hands them to the man working the machines. He is a well-built man with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. He looks around the age of 20, probably working his way through college. After making the drinks he places the cups on the raised platform where either the customer who is taking it to work or home or to anywhere else they are going to be, takes it, or the young, unorthodox waitress who has black hair and untied shoes takes the coffee and brings it to the customer.

I scan the cafe a little more my eyes run across what looks like a very rich man sitting three tables away from me. He is wearing a black business suit with golden cufflinks. He pulls back the sleeve of the suit to look at his silver watch obviously waiting for someone impatiently. The man having no coffee in front of him got up and went to order some "sugar no creme" coffee. He then returns to his seat looks at his watch and stares out the window.

I myself look out the window wondering where the time had gone. Now 30 years old and considered one of the great writers of my time, writing about my past experiences giving the reader a personal feel to what I was thinking or feeling at the time the experience happened. What happened to the time when I had worried about my grade when trying to get faster to take that step to push myself to my limits in cross country? I smile to myself thinking that during my first season of running on the cross country team I only liked my coaches and captains with only a couple other people cheering for me,shouting words of encouragement to make me run faster.

A bell rings; bring my attention to the door where a man in an almost identical suit to the rich man walked in. The rich man got up and greeted the man; I now noticed the large stack of papers the man had held under his arm as he set them on the table. The two men started talking in hushed voices.

I turn my attention back out the window and look at the tall steeple that towers over a group of trees. I think back to youth group, the all night Christmas parties and serving God and the wonderful atmosphere all around a place of peace and joy. One time I had walked into the church when the only person already there was the youth pastor. I just went and sat down at one of the multi-colored couches and read the bible IÕd brought1Ú4

CRASH!

I look again away from the window towards the sound of the crash the waitress had been bringing the rich man his coffee when she had tripped on her shoelace and sent the coffee spilling over the tidy stack of papers. The two men looked like they were about to blow their heads off they were almost steaming in rage. Both men then stormed out of the cafe with out a word. I got up and asked if there was anything I could do to help out the waitress said, "Yes, would you go ask for a mop and bucket for me?"

I walked up to the counter got the bucket and mop and started to help clean up the coffee. When we were nearly finished, a few minutes later, the rich man came in and said that he was very, very sorry for storming out of the cafe. The waitress said it was OK and the man then turned to me and said that he was sorry I said that it was no problem that I had been to this cafe many times to just think when this had happened before.

I thought back to the many times it had happened to ordinary people some with tempers, some sweet as honey. They all had been back for more coffee or to say sorry but they never forgot the cafe, the Starbucks that they had visited and met the man that they couldnÕt tell by the way he acted that he was a great author, they thought that he had been an ordinary man with a great heart to always help the waiters or waitresses with their tiresome jobs.