The Lady in the Coffee shop

by Ayla/Orange

 

03

A passing thought on being another brick in the wall,

’NORMAL�?

 culturally controlled, politically correct, fanatically conservative.

Boring.

 

One day while sitting in a coffee shop, I was distracted from my writing by a very robust and joyous laughter. I turned to see the source of the laughter and focused on a lovely blond woman at a table with a small group people.

She was quite captivating although a bit out of style. She stood about 6' tall and 180 lbs., which is what I would call large in statue. She was laughing a bit louder than the general conversations in the room.  She was well dress but a bit out of the style for1980s. Her athletic figure filled out a straight navy blue skirt and bright cherry red sweater. My attention was drawn to her crossed and swinging leg which sported a fifties era high heel. The a four inch spike.

I noticed that the woman had taken the outside seat of the booth, which is not usually done. And I noted it to be a bolder move, as the other women where properly positioned on the inside of their male escorts.

The woman was very excited and talkative, gesturing with her hand in all directions. Judging from her structure and mannerisms I guessed her to be; maybe, German; of course I can't say for sure because I didn't ask.

I was distracted from my writing so, I just watched for a bit. Soon I found myself feeling a bit lightened and enjoying the happiness she imitated.

I got the impression that she had just married one of the men and was new to this country.

Her companions, three men and two women a bit older than her, were all dressed in shades of gray suits. Hyper-drab. They were  very quiet and spoke little. They did not laugh with the lady, however; with lifted brows and down cast eyes they make their embarrassment know to all who looked on. I thought they might be British, sort of the highbrow Prince Charles group.

This woman stood out from her companions in a way that caught my artist’s eye. She was a direct polar opposite from the other people at the table. I thought how very alive she was in comparison to her new companions and I wondered how her life would go. I felt a bit sad for her but, thought that maybe she would add some color into her new life’s canvas. I least I hoped.

My mind became very excited over the contrasts and I did a wonderful group of oil stick sketches that day. As I laid down the bright cherry red of her sweater, I thought how wonderfully she appeared and felt like a Cabaret.

I saw her again a few years later in that same coffee shop. This time there was no more excited laughter, the light had gone out of her eyes, her voice had ceased and she was gray.

As I passed their table I just smiled and I said I soft and proper hello, but as I walk away I cried inside.