Writing Assignment #1: The Window

So as part of my self-imposed "Be Brave and Love the Fear" campaign, I'm going to share my assignments.  I need to learn how to share without fear.  For this first assignment, all we were given was a title..."The Window."  We had to write prose (not poetry, which would have been easier for me) in less than 500 words.  I'm not going to lie, it was hard. I don't love it, but I don't hate it either.  Anyway, here it is in all it's naked glory...or not.  Not looking for praise, just the courage to let it go.

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The Window

The teacup scalded my fingers as I wrapped them around it, but it was better than the frigid air that hammered on them.  I could go inside the café, but it suffocates me to be inside with all those other people.  You know, the normal ones who know how to be warm and cozy with each other.  I released one hand to pull my scarf up to my chin and then brought the cup to my nose to let the steam warm my face.

I admired the font of “Le Mot Juste” sketched across the café window and glanced inside to scan the booths of patrons.  A lonely man, who may or may not be homeless; the waitress in her candy-striped dress, a blazing red smile painted across her face;  a woman dragging a child off the table away from the syrup; the lovers in the corner gazing hopeful into each other’s eyes. 

The lovers. 

He had his hand atop hers with her pinky intertwined with his.  She caressed his cheek and ran her thumb across his lips.  They kissed and a smile escaped across her face. Her face was simple and plain, but she was beautiful. 

For a moment I loathed them.  And then I pitied them, for surely this wouldn’t last.  Hurt was bound to show up.  Poor things.  But as I took a sip of tea, the burn that assaulted my tongue caused my eyes to well up with tears.  And then I found myself crying.  Crying of all things!

I quickly wiped the tears from my cheeks.  Ridiculous.  I looked away from the window and wrapped my hands back around my cup of warmth, staring into it to get back to myself.  “I prefer to be alone,” I preached to no one and motioned for Miss Ruby Red Lips to bring me the check. 

She shivered a bit as she walked out the door, but she smiled (of course, she did) and bent over toward my face.

“A gentleman inside took care of your check,” she said, “and he asked me to give you this.”  She handed me a napkin with some scribble on it.  She smiled again, and this time, she looked impossibly sweet.

I looked down at the napkin.  It read: “You are too beautiful to be crying.  I wish you might come inside sometime.” 

Confused, I looked up and gazed through the window.  Same people…the waitress, the mother now grasping pieces of pancake from her son’s fingers, the lovers, and the lonely man who was putting on his coat.

He turned toward the window, brushed his fingers along the tip of his hat, and walked out toward the back door.

My cheeks blushed hot against the cold wind.