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Hello precious people, you have reached someone who is going to post her random thoughts and theories. I am someone who is very reluctant about sharing her work but still wants to feel appreciated.

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Three coffee’s before nine

It was five in the morning when I start my shift. I felt bitter sweet arranging the cups and mugs around me. Sure, I hated working as a barista, but knowing that I was doing this for the last time gave an uneasy feeling. I would graduate within a month, and already had a secure job in a firm I always dreamt of. Still not being able to work in this café again made my heart hurt more than my first hear break.

“One iced americano.” A voice snapped me out of my heartbreak.

“Huh?”

“Oh, sorry are you not serving yet?  I googled and it said that you opened at five- “

“Sorry, I was just zoned out. We are serving. One iced americano coming right away.” I spoke catching up with my duties.

“Yes, one large iced americano.” She spoke making eye contact for a brief moment.

“Would you like some syrup- “

“No. Just plain iced americano without any additions.”

“Sure. We give twenty five percent off on food with large beverages. Would you like to add something?”

“No, wait let me check what’s available.” She spoke and I wondered what was troubling her so much. Iced americano without any additions, that is some strong coffee.

“I’ll add a chocolate chip cookie.”

“Coming right away. I’ll bring it to your table.” She vanished as soon as I spoke. I kind of thought she would take a croissant with her dark coffee. I smiled a little taking the weird combination of one of the most bitter coffee and the sweetest cookie available.

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“one white mocha with hazelnut syrup.” The same girl from before spoke snapping me out of my thesis. I gave her a double look before speaking. Third coffee before 7 a.m.? Not very healthy choices.

“Are you sure?”

“What is there to doubt in ordering coffee. “ she spoke in a deadpanned tone and I regretted making such a remark. Why am I concerned about the amount of coffee someone consumes?

“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that three types of coffee before seven in the morning is not usual. One white mocha coming right away.” I turned around and got started with her coffee.

“Wait, you are right. Can I have a chocolate cookie instead?” she spoke and I could make out the troubles in her voice.

“I’ll bring your order to your table.” I spoke and she vanished away just like the last two times.

I looked as she got back to her notes, papers and textbook all over her table. What could possibly trouble a college student to the point of three coffees before seven am?

“Here is your warm milk and cookies.” I placed the order and took a seat in front of her.

“I never ordered warm milk.” She looked up from the books and I could feel the tiredness in her voice. Her eyes looked like they would enjoy some sleep.

“It’s on the house. I don’t want to intrude or something but I think you should go home and get some rest. You look like you are about to pass out any minute.” She massaged her head nodding along with my words.

“Going home is not an option right now. Also, I have sem end exams next week. Studying is better than sleeping.” She was trying really hard to keep her tears in.

“Trouble at home?”

“No, they kicked out me and my roommate out last night from the dorms. They caught her doing pot and kicked me out on the basis of not reporting it.” She shed a few tears leaving stains on her notes.

“Where is your stuff?” I questioned getting up to get something.

“I asked them to give me twenty-four hours so it’s still there.”

“Here, my apartment is one block away. Go and take some rest. I’ll see for apartment listings.” I handed her my keys catching her bewildered look.

“How can you just give your keys to some stranger? What if I am a here to kill you or something.”

“You just cried in front of me also I you are too small to kill someone like me.”

“Hey, for all I could be a psychopath with a motive or something.”

“Then I would like to give you the benefit of doubt. Now go get some sleep, I don’t want a passed-out girl in the café.” I helped her stuff her books back as she gave me a wide smile.

“Why are you being so nice?” she questioned her as I explained the directions to my apartment.

“Because you are cute and I need a reason to see you again.”

SC

I’m too scared to even think about what the next five years of my life are going to be like.

I don’t know how many people out there feel this way. There is only one thing I want to say, I feel that way too and there is nothing wrong to feel scared about one’s future. We are feeling so lost at the moment that even the thought of what is going to happen the next month keeps us awake at night. We don’t even know if we will be able to survive the next twenty four hours. Everyone has days of weakness. Just feel your breaths going in and out. This feeling was there before and you survived. These moments, hours, days, weeks and months of uncertainty shall pass too.

Letter to my ex-best friends boyfriend

Dear Ex-best friend’s boyfriend,

I know I hurt your girlfriend, but she hurt me too. That fight doesn’t make my love and care for her disappear. So, if you think you are relieved of that psychotic best friend, no you are not mister. No matter how sweet or flattering you are, my eyes are always on you. Mess once and I’ll haunt you for a lifetime. Keeping the threats aside there are some requests, some requests that made me swallow my pride. Just love her completely, she loves love, she loves the idea of love and she loves when someone loves her back. She is a very simple kind of person and hence she loves simple gestures like coffee and long drives. Her family matters too much to her and she would want you to respect that. She wears pink when she feels depressed and black when she is happy. She likes her coffee strong and her hamster named hamster died last year. I know you probably know most of these things, but I can’t help myself. I just miss her too much. Everything I do reminds me of her, of what we used to have. I don’t know what suddenly changed so much between us but I still love her. I miss third wheeling your dates, planning little surprises for her, and most importantly I miss people asking you if her and I are a couple.

Your Sincerely,

Your girlfriend’s ex-best friend.

P.S. – hug her a little longer. She might be missing the warmth I used to provide her with.

Dustin and Cinderella

It was senior prom, Cinderella was not supposed to be at the dance, her step sisters didn’t want her to come in the way of winning the prom queen with the prom king, aka the boy or as he preferred the man with the best hair, Dustin. But nevertheless Cinderella attended the dance, not because some fairy god mother appeared to her rescue, but because she saw the dance as the last chance to confess her love for Dustin. Ready with the perfect dress and perfect hair, Cinderella approached Dustin for a dance. Dustin was shocked for a moment, he couldn’t believe what he saw, how Cinderella just broke the stereotypes and how she ceased to amaze him as always. The dance went perfectly as they swayed to the latest pop number. Glancing at his wrist watch, Dustin noted that if he let Cinderella slip this time he would lose her forever. He pulled her aside, took hold of her hands, looked deep into her eyes and said, “It will be Twelve in five minutes and you will rush home, but before you go you should know that I love you more that my newly found species of frogs.”. This time Cinderella didn’t run away when time came.

Window

Growing up I’ve started missing the little comforts I used to have in my life. One of the most comforting comfort was my window. How I used to sit with my hot milk and stare right through her. She would act as a mediator between my precious moon and me. How I would decorate her every Diwali because that was my way of celebrating Diwali with her. How I would discuss random ideas with her. How she would stop me from crying and would engulf me in her hugs in the form of winds. Now, I have a plenty of her with better view and design, but none give the comfort and freedom my window used to give. No one opens their arms to me like her.

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