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Description
Professional dancers skitter across my head with cleats, a headache which is only associated with a mild hangover. Bright light filters in through the closed blinds and the noise of the traffic outside is left hanging in the air, signaling mid-morning in the outside world. Fresh coffee gives the room a haunting aroma, lingering in the nose, leaving the body craving it's deep roast. The room is in disarray, books and binders stacked everywhere on the floor, neither of our beds made, the two desks which have managed to be crammed into our small living space are overflowing with papers, pens, post-it notes and empty take-out cartons. Nothing adorns the plain white walls except a singular cork board decorated with pictures of family, schedules and a calendar. A few lone pieces of clothing hang around the singular overflowing hamper in one corner of the room and a dusty TV which hasn't been used in months sits on top of our shared dresser, waiting to be turned on to watch something, anything of our enjoyment.
My roommate Sofia lifts her head from her laptop screen to look and nod at me. If anyone could devise two people any more different in appearance yet alike in personality, Sofia and I would would be those two. Standing at 5'0 with beautiful skin the color of mocha, Sofia is curvy with curly black hair that she kept in a bun, large brown, haunting eyes and pouty lips that do not fit her personality. She has curves in all the right places and always seems to have a boyfriend at one time or another. Then, there is me. At 5'10, I am lanky and awkward in the way I look, with cool trails of veins slightly visible underneath my shockingly pale skin. My long ashen blonde hair usually hung in a straight curtain around me, falling right below my collarbone with bangs that I constantly have to brush out of my light gray-blue eyes. Standing next to one another, a stranger would immediately notice the differences between us but as soon as one would start talking with us, they would realize we had the same mannerisms, the same work habits, the same sense of humor, and the same determined 'i'll sleep when it's done' attitude. Both of us share the same disorganized, slightly unapologetic and fiercely competitive mindset that keeps us going.
"Well look who's finally up." Voice flat, no emotion, no hint of sarcasm, joy, or any kind of expression assaults her face. Plain old Sofia. She swivels around in her desk chair, crossing her legs while regarding me stirring and finally sitting up, drawing the sheets that had been thrown off sometime in the middle of the night around my shivering body. My eyes close and I bring a tired hand across my face, rubbing my waking eyes and attempting to wake up.
"Would you mind handing me some Tylenol?" The words are hoarse as they slip through my lips and I realize I must look like complete and utter shit. Instead of gently handing me the bottle of Tylenol sitting on her desk, Sofia tosses the small white bottle towards me, catching me off guard, making me react to late and letting it hit me in the face. Undeterred I open it, pouring out two of the tiny little pills into the palm of my hand and knocking them back dry. The smell of the coffee still permeates the air and my eyes quickly search the room to find the steaming mug alongside Sofia's laptop. As I contemplate going to get some coffee of my own or just curling up in bed again, Sofia drags me back to her companionship, inquiring about last night.
"Tell me, what exactly happened?" I let a small groan escape my lips and I bury my head my palms.
"Honestly, it wasn't all that bad but I think the fact I was intoxicated made it worse- scratch that, it did make it worse." Sofia stares at me while I reply before prompting me to continue.
"That did not answer my question in the least." With that I tell her about the night, how I was invited to go to a party and, needing a break, I decided to go, having a few beers and being totally out of character. When I get to talking about the guy I was going to talk to last night before my little klutzy spill, she stops me.
"You mean Dunstan Singh?" Her knowledge shocks me and I nod with uncertainty, trying to remember if I had ever learned his name. "His lecture yesterday was great, anyway, continue." So I precede to tell her about how I attempted to build up the courage to go and talk to him. When I get to the part where I fall on my face, I end the story, going silent and letting her drink it in. "Well that certainly sucks," she pauses, looking at my exhausted self, "I'd recommend taking the day off. Go do something for yourself. Besides drinking." My head nods and I realize what she said makes sense.
"Alright, now, if you excuse me, I'm going to go put on some real clothes and get some of the coffee I've been craving since I saw that mug on your desk." Sofia once again nodded her head and turning back to her paper she had undoubtedly spent all night working on, revising a million times just to come up with the exact same thing she had in the beginning.
I dress myself in a sluggish manner, slipping on slowly one of the few pairs of jeans I owned, a sweater, a pair of beat up boots, matching hat and scarf and a pair of gloves. The headache dulls to a light throbbing in my temples by the time I slip out the door and heading to the quaint coffee shop down the street. Although the air outside is a chilling 39 degrees, it does not stop the people of the busy New England town from getting out of their beds and going on with their day to day lives, rushing down the sidewalks, chatting on cell phones and running quick errands for the week to come. The sun shines down on the streets, warming up the bodies of people daring to walk instead of drive and allowing the town to spring to life, sparkling on the few in service fountains and reflecting off the shiny store windows displaying proud 'Open' signs. The cold seeps through the thin material of my clothing, chilling my body and raising goosebumps on my arms. I walk swiftly down the side of the crowded sidewalk, my long legs carrying me rapidly over the gray cement.
In a few minutes I stop and turn, the face of the coffee shop staring straight at me. It is a small building, wedged between two competing insurance companies that boast a capitalistic air to them. A long window opens up the front of them shop, showing a bar and a few far stools right behind it, a few college kids diligently sipping their complicated coffee orders in customized mugs, chewing their crumbling blueberry scones and typing out a wordy essay that will hopefully get them the A they so desperately need for their parents approval. Another window, a large floor-to-ceiling design that displays a few crowded tables is up above, exposing the homey interior of the second floor. 'Bauer's Cafe' is displayed in large cursive white letters, painted on to the front of the building, wedged between the red awning that juts out over the sidewalk and the bottom of the second-floor window. The enticing aroma of coffee and bagels pervades the air around the cafe, drawing in any remotely hungry passerby to come and enjoy a gratifying croissant or freshly glazed doughnut.
In a few steps, I bridge the gap between me and the door and the once casual scent of the cafe from outside overpowers my nostrils, sending a fresh breath of enticing coffee aroma into my lungs as I open the door.

Description
Professional dancers skitter across my head with cleats, a headache which is only associated with a mild hangover. Bright light filters in through the closed blinds and the noise of the traffic outside is left hanging in the air, signaling mid-morning in the outside world. Fresh coffee gives the room a haunting aroma, lingering in the nose, leaving the body craving it's deep roast. The room is in disarray, books and binders stacked everywhere on the floor, neither of our beds made, the two desks which have managed to be crammed into our small living space are overflowing with papers, pens, post-it notes and empty take-out cartons. Nothing adorns the plain white walls except a singular cork board decorated with pictures of family, schedules and a calendar. A few lone pieces of clothing hang around the singular overflowing hamper in one corner of the room and a dusty TV which hasn't been used in months sits on top of our shared dresser, waiting to be turned on to watch something, anything of our enjoyment.
My roommate Sofia lifts her head from her laptop screen to look and nod at me. If anyone could devise two people any more different in appearance yet alike in personality, Sofia and I would would be those two. Standing at 5'0 with beautiful skin the color of mocha, Sofia is curvy with curly black hair that she kept in a bun, large brown, haunting eyes and pouty lips that do not fit her personality. She has curves in all the right places and always seems to have a boyfriend at one time or another. Then, there is me. At 5'10, I am lanky and awkward in the way I look, with cool trails of veins slightly visible underneath my shockingly pale skin. My long ashen blonde hair usually hung in a straight curtain around me, falling right below my collarbone with bangs that I constantly have to brush out of my light gray-blue eyes. Standing next to one another, a stranger would immediately notice the differences between us but as soon as one would start talking with us, they would realize we had the same mannerisms, the same work habits, the same sense of humor, and the same determined 'i'll sleep when it's done' attitude. Both of us share the same disorganized, slightly unapologetic and fiercely competitive mindset that keeps us going.
"Well look who's finally up." Voice flat, no emotion, no hint of sarcasm, joy, or any kind of expression assaults her face. Plain old Sofia. She swivels around in her desk chair, crossing her legs while regarding me stirring and finally sitting up, drawing the sheets that had been thrown off sometime in the middle of the night around my shivering body. My eyes close and I bring a tired hand across my face, rubbing my waking eyes and attempting to wake up.
"Would you mind handing me some Tylenol?" The words are hoarse as they slip through my lips and I realize I must look like complete and utter shit. Instead of gently handing me the bottle of Tylenol sitting on her desk, Sofia tosses the small white bottle towards me, catching me off guard, making me react to late and letting it hit me in the face. Undeterred I open it, pouring out two of the tiny little pills into the palm of my hand and knocking them back dry. The smell of the coffee still permeates the air and my eyes quickly search the room to find the steaming mug alongside Sofia's laptop. As I contemplate going to get some coffee of my own or just curling up in bed again, Sofia drags me back to her companionship, inquiring about last night.
"Tell me, what exactly happened?" I let a small groan escape my lips and I bury my head my palms.
"Honestly, it wasn't all that bad but I think the fact I was intoxicated made it worse- scratch that, it did make it worse." Sofia stares at me while I reply before prompting me to continue.
"That did not answer my question in the least." With that I tell her about the night, how I was invited to go to a party and, needing a break, I decided to go, having a few beers and being totally out of character. When I get to talking about the guy I was going to talk to last night before my little klutzy spill, she stops me.
"You mean Dunstan Singh?" Her knowledge shocks me and I nod with uncertainty, trying to remember if I had ever learned his name. "His lecture yesterday was great, anyway, continue." So I precede to tell her about how I attempted to build up the courage to go and talk to him. When I get to the part where I fall on my face, I end the story, going silent and letting her drink it in. "Well that certainly sucks," she pauses, looking at my exhausted self, "I'd recommend taking the day off. Go do something for yourself. Besides drinking." My head nods and I realize what she said makes sense.
"Alright, now, if you excuse me, I'm going to go put on some real clothes and get some of the coffee I've been craving since I saw that mug on your desk." Sofia once again nodded her head and turning back to her paper she had undoubtedly spent all night working on, revising a million times just to come up with the exact same thing she had in the beginning.
I dress myself in a sluggish manner, slipping on slowly one of the few pairs of jeans I owned, a sweater, a pair of beat up boots, matching hat and scarf and a pair of gloves. The headache dulls to a light throbbing in my temples by the time I slip out the door and heading to the quaint coffee shop down the street. Although the air outside is a chilling 39 degrees, it does not stop the people of the busy New England town from getting out of their beds and going on with their day to day lives, rushing down the sidewalks, chatting on cell phones and running quick errands for the week to come. The sun shines down on the streets, warming up the bodies of people daring to walk instead of drive and allowing the town to spring to life, sparkling on the few in service fountains and reflecting off the shiny store windows displaying proud 'Open' signs. The cold seeps through the thin material of my clothing, chilling my body and raising goosebumps on my arms. I walk swiftly down the side of the crowded sidewalk, my long legs carrying me rapidly over the gray cement.
In a few minutes I stop and turn, the face of the coffee shop staring straight at me. It is a small building, wedged between two competing insurance companies that boast a capitalistic air to them. A long window opens up the front of them shop, showing a bar and a few far stools right behind it, a few college kids diligently sipping their complicated coffee orders in customized mugs, chewing their crumbling blueberry scones and typing out a wordy essay that will hopefully get them the A they so desperately need for their parents approval. Another window, a large floor-to-ceiling design that displays a few crowded tables is up above, exposing the homey interior of the second floor. 'Bauer's Cafe' is displayed in large cursive white letters, painted on to the front of the building, wedged between the red awning that juts out over the sidewalk and the bottom of the second-floor window. The enticing aroma of coffee and bagels pervades the air around the cafe, drawing in any remotely hungry passerby to come and enjoy a gratifying croissant or freshly glazed doughnut.
In a few steps, I bridge the gap between me and the door and the once casual scent of the cafe from outside overpowers my nostrils, sending a fresh breath of enticing coffee aroma into my lungs as I open the door.