Anya writing

The day I met Anya it was neither cold, nor hot. The sun was neither out, nor shinning. The streets were not empty nor filled with people. The wind neither blew nor was still. I am unsure if I was there or not. And her as well. The only thing I know, is on that date, I met her. And though I am unsure of this too, I do mostly believe that it was a good thing that happened.

At that time of my life, I was working in a cafe, that was called a cafe, but in reality was a bar, though we served food, mainly breakfast, and then lunch, and later dinner, but it was in reality a bar. And I made coffee, fantastic coffee, and people would often compliment me on my coffee, but it was a bar.

Many people would order drinks with me, as I was behind the bar, and I would make them, but mostly the people would order the drinks with the waitress, and she would bring me a note with the drinks written down, and I would make the drinks that she had written. I liked when the people ordered drinks with me, but I liked it more when the people ordered drinks with the waitress, and she would bring me the note with the drinks written on it.

I did not see Anya come into my cafe, that was in reality a bar, but I did see her standing in the corner with a drink, so I knew she had ordered earlier with the waitress, and I liked this. There are too many times people talk about the first time they did see the person that they love, and it is often the same story, as it had been with me, and so I will not tell that story. Only you should know that there is a story of how I first saw her, and that it is a good story.

The cafe that was really a bar was not empty, but also it was not busy. And people would often order their drinks with me, and sometimes with the waitress, as was normal, and I would make the drinks. But this particular time I was not wanting anyone to order any drinks with me, because I did not want to talk to anyone else again, and so when people would try to order their drinks with me, I would tell them to order their drinks with the waitress instead. It was something I had not done before, but no one seemed to mind, and I liked that.

I tried to not look at Anya, because though it did not make me feel warm nor did it pain me, it did make me feel something, and it was something I did not understand, and still do not understand, even after all this time.

Later, when I was trying to not look at Anya, I saw that she had a different drink in her hand than she had in her hand earlier, so I knew that I had made her a new drink, and I wondered which drink it had been, and although I always was trying to make every drink a good one, I wondereded if I had made her a good drink. She was not smiling, but she also did not look unhappy, and if she had smiled at all that time, it was after she had tasted her drink, and so I assumed that it was a good drink, and this made me happy.

I do not know if she too was trying to not look at me, but I do know that most of the times when I was trying to not look at her, she would look at me, and then I would definately not be looking at her, and as I was not looking at her I could see that she had quickly definately not looked at me, and so I assumed that she was as well trying to not look at me, and this too made me happy. She stayed almost to the end of that time that I was making drinks, and though there was some confusion, though I will not tell that story, in the end she did put in my hand a folded up note of paper that she gave me in secret and when she was gone I opened it, and on the note was her phone number, and I do not need to tell you that this made me happy, though it did.

I did not call her, because of part of the story that I did not tell you, but I did keep the note with her phone number on my refrigerator at home, and everytime I would be in my kitchen I would look at the note and it would make me happy, but I did not call her.

Another time at the cafe, that was really a bar, she was there again, but this time was different in two ways. The first way that this time was different was that I saw her come in. And I remember that it was not day, and not night, but it was at the time in between, specifically, when calling it either day or night would both be truthful and also not truthful. The second thing that was different was that when she came in she did look at me, and I did too look at her, and this time we did not try to not look at each other.

That night, because it then became night, I kissed her, for the first time. Many people have told the story of their first kiss with the person they love, and so I will not tell that part of the story, but know that it did happen, and it was in an alley, behind the cafe that was a bar. It was not a romantic location, but the kiss was romantic, and though I did not know it at the time, I would spend almost the next 2 years trying to make it happen every chance I had.

This is the story of how I met Anya, almost 2 years ago. And though it is not true that her name is Anya, it is true everything else.

Submitted March 20, 2015 at 03:47PM by JackEatsSharks http://ift.tt/1AO1U6K writing