The Cafe Date

This is just an experiment/draft. Wanted to emphasize the ugliness, awkwardness, patience, and tiredness of life.

It's a nice afternoon with chattering noises. I pick up the cup while she puts down her cup to the saucer. She looks around with her wandering eyes. What is there for her to look at? I mean there are people around with their little private conversations. The staff with their worry looks as the customers hurry their order. One of the staff sighs deeply while serving and the customer interacts with that into account. The customer softens their voice when asking; the staff regrets their action, thinking it was an overstep. The other customers breathe in these interactions and breathe them out for theirs. The girl glares at them with curiosity. I admit; here is an interesting observatory. While there isn't much light to start with, the window next to us ables our vision, gleaming rays which hits the girl's face. Oh how ugly is that face. The Samantha next to my table is much more suitable. But the girl in front, what a shame. She looks straight ahead where our eyes meet. I smile for accommodation as she's my date. But time passes and she doesn't do much but silent smiling. I wonder how I look with my unstraightened shirt and imbalanced shape of my body. From the customer's gazes, they don't seem to have noticed the imperfect manly figure present in the cafe. I smile in relief. I gues we all resort to is smiling. Yet, I cannot help but be disgusted by the girl’s face. Her eyes are hard with the left side uneven to the right: the left one glaring around while the right one is calm. Her eyes tainted with bright red. Her cheeks flushed with many unnatural colors that I didn’t know they existed. Her figure positioned in awkwardness. I guess she’s waiting for my signals as I am for hers. While we wait, we look around at the others. The others stand up and mumble as they walk. Like a ceremonial affair, they gather around us in an oval. They fold their arms, each eyes staring at us with such curiosity. And I stand close to the girl to examine her face. The once chattery cafe is now dead silent. Her breath heavy and mine slowed down. I tilt my head diagonal and observe. The silent clock now loud and clear. Each second tenses the air with ticks and tocks. 

And yet she is still ugly.

“What are you waiting for?” One asks.

“Waiting for her beautiful smile,” I reply.

“How beautiful.” They proclaimed for me.