#50
Maggie was up earlier than usual. Ben didn’t notice she got out of bed.
The sun was still hidden, but the sky was already turning. Outside, the birds were already active. Awake for hours, she thought. What a life.
There was no coffee, so she decided to go for a walk, something she rarely did. The closest cafe wasn’t far, but far enough to be an effort. She slipped on some shoes and a jacket, pulled her hair back into a long pony-tail, sunglasses in her pocket, phone left on the counter, and closed the door quietly after writing a note to Ben:
B: Went for coffee.
M
The neighborhood was always so quiet, which was nice for work, but hard for life. At this hour, it was a graveyard. Who cares, she thought.
Around the corner, down by the dentist office, she saw old man Wirey, he was maybe the only one up at this hour. Mr Wirey smiled and waved, she waved back in a way that said, hello but please don’t talk to me. They both kept walking, kept their distance.
It’s the distance that upsets her the most, how people don’t want to be close, they cross to the other side of the street, avoid eye contact. The closeness that once was, is now a fading thought of the pre-days, but who cares, she thought.
The cafe was open, but had no customers. Her choice of pastries, and a barista who hadn’t yet been jaded by the morning rush. Coffee was always black for both her and Ben, milk and sugar a thing of their twenties. The croissant she ate on the walk back, a trail of flaky buttery crumbs behind her for the birds, the dogs who would come later with their owners. The walk back with sunglasses on. The walk back, through the quiet streets.
The glasses helped hide the tears that she knew would happen at some point on the walk because they always happen at some point but this morning she knew that the walk was the moment, so the sunglasses help protect her from glares, from who? From the lack of people? But that’s the thing that creates the tears, the lack of people. No energy.
Later in the kitchen, she’s got her phone and coffee, Ben stumbles in wearing his bed shorts, his hair is messy.
B: you’re up early.