April's Fool: The End (Chapter 1)

Do you see me?

Prying eyes in an instant find your gaze and I am mesmerized.

Wondering what dreams pass through your mind

And do I accompany them in adoring you.

Kiss me softly with those eyes and let me console you with this gentle look.

Distances divide as I find no comfort in my seat at this time.

Up and in your arms is where I wish to find myself,

Worshipping these moments so sweet.

But for now I sit in silence as voices dissipate into inaudible whispers

Through eyes that long for the burden of your touch.

The cloudy March skies gave the sign of rain, flowers bent in the breeze at the will of strong currents. Kyle pictured the empty seats outside of the café to be a representation of his mind, once full of chattering thoughts clamoring to be heard over the others, but now an empty void. His eyes drew from the window and across the stone wall at the other end of the café to the barista behind the counter. Her stunning brown eyes made his heart skip a beat. Kyle checked himself with the thought that maybe he was doing something embarrassing, like there might have been a booger or his shirt was inside out. He looked back up to find the barista’s gentle smile had joined her stare. Kyle sheepishly smiled back at her then checked behind him quickly to ensure that he would not be caught up in an embarrassing moment where she was actually interested in someone behind him.
            Finding everyone else distracted in their own conversations, Kyle looked back at the now approaching woman and smiled with obvious interest. Her tall slender figure floated gracefully across the floor, her short brown hair brushed gently above her shoulders. Her bright and colorful dress, covered with oranges and blues, stimulated the visual senses “Hi, can I take your order?” Her accent gave hint to a southern upbringing.

            After a moment of silence, which seemed obviously too long, Kyle came to his senses, “Um, yeah, I’ll have the…” he picked up his menu and fumbled through the pages. The barista brushed off her apron gently with her hand, and Kyle slightly glanced at the hand with envy, wishing that he could be the hand that made its way over the soft curves of her body. “I’ll have the drip.”

            “Alright then.” The barista pulled out her notepad and pen then began to write diligently.

            “Um, pardon me, but do you really need to write that down?” Kyle’s question seemed to fall into the shadow of what the barista was scribbling on her pad. “Not trying to be a jerk, but I would assume that remembering a drip would be pretty easy.” Kyle took note of her nameless badge with MANAGER written across the top.

            “That’s not what I’m writing down.” The she wrapped up the note and provided Kyle with her attention once again. “What are you working on?”

            “Excuse me?” The barista pointed at the notebook in Kyle’s possession. Trying not to sound like any less of a man Kyle said, “Oh, yeah, this old thing. I write a little poetry every now and then.” She muffled a laugh and Kyle reflected on his attempt at sounding secure and sexy, and then realized that it was anything but.

            “Poetry, no shit?”

            Kyle raised an eyebrow at her response, “Yeah, no shit.” He took advantage of her piqued interest, “So I’ve been coming here for some time now and I’m pretty sure I would have noticed you. Did you just get hired on as a manager or have we just been missing each other?”

            “I was out for a while, had some things to take care of. Self discovery and all that Jazz.” For a few moments the barista looked out the window at the passing cars tapping her pen on her pad as though fishing for a subject to change to. “So, let’s hear some of that poetry.” Like an old friend the barista sat down at Kyle’s table across from him and peered at him with her soft Spanish eyes which he could now see a hint of green inside of.

            “I’m not really comfortable with…” She snatched the book from Kyle’s hand. “Hey!”

            “Let’s see.” she began to read after scanning the page, “She’s beautifully damaged, I love the way she…”

            Kyle pried the book from her grasp. “Okay I’ll read you one, just not that one. It’s not finished yet.” He thumbed through his notebook as the barista waited patiently. “Okay, here’s one I wrote a few months ago…wait, never mind, I’ll just…”

            The barista kicked him softly on the shin with her cowgirl boot. “Read it,” she demanded.

            “Blank thoughts of nothing fill my head, my muse is gone, and the melody that flowed through me which inspired my greatest feelings and thoughts has evaporated like drops of water in a frying pan. You are gone, into nothingness, only replaced by an empty page in an empty notebook and a shelf full of music that can’t seem to describe how I feel right now.” Kyle glanced up from his pages to see the adoring eyes of the barista. The mystery behind her eyes left so much to be explored if he played his cards right.

            Setting his eyes back to his pages he continued, “When are you coming back around? Never, I suppose, singing your sweet inspiration into another’s ear, your words that once filled my evenings with thoughts of happy endings and moments you would be…”

            Kyle was cut short by the small piece of paper from the woman’s notepad being placed between the pages of his notebook. “Sorry, I have to go. Here’s my number and email. Call me sometime, or text, I like texts.” The barista stood up from her seat and began to take off her apron. “And don’t try and pull tat three day waiting shit either, I know how you guys operate.”

            “You’re off?”

            “I’ve been off for about fifteen minutes. I was just standing over there waiting for you to come and talk to me.” The barista laughed at her scheme, “So you’ll call, right?”

            Trying not to sound too desperate, Kyle replied, “Yeah, of course.”

            “You better, because I wanna hear how that poem ends.” The barista walked over to the counter and handed her apron over to one of her co-workers. She waived at Kyle as she walked out the door.

            “Kyle sat in his chair and replayed the past few moments, with the question of how this could have happened to him, then he looked at the open pages in his notebook where the note had been placed. “Anonymous@gmail.com.” Really, Kyle thought to himself, then his eyes found what he was looking for, “April.” Her name made him think of what he had become, April’s Fool.