Spilling coffee

I didn’t know what would come that day, and had I known, I would have taken a sick leave from work to avoid it. But I didn’t, of course, and so my morning looked like it always did: A cup of coffee, a shower, and a croissant to eat on my way. I left my flat in a rush, as I always did, but the bus was late, so I was left waiting at the stop, watching the commuters come and go. I didn’t mind spending time outside my flat, it was a place that reminded me of what I no longer had. Any chance I got to be away from home, I took. When the bus finally came, I took my usual seat by the window and watched the city landscape pass by.

Work that day was normal, just the usual interactions with colleagues and the staff. As the day ended, I took the door leading to the main road and left without a word. Now, as I look back, you must have left your work around the same time. It was drizzling outside, and I opened my umbrella and started walking. That was another trick I had to not have to spend too much time in my flat: taking the long way home, even if it rained. I walked slowly, watching the passer-bys and trying to imagine what their lives looked like. Did they also have sorrow in their lives? Or had they passed the years happily, avoiding the pitfalls that life would offer? I had no way of knowing, of course, but I did my best to dream up the happy lives they must live, devoid of any grief. Maybe that’s why I didn’t see you, I was so occupied in my own mind that the world around me faded.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.”

I staggered backwards as you bumped into me. Something, maybe it was coffee, spilled over my jacket, and you grabbed me to stop me from falling.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you.”

I found my footing and straightened out. You stood huddled in front of me, an empty cup in your hand and a pleading look on your face.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said as I brushed the liquid off my jacket and took a step to continue on my way.

“No, please, it was all my fault. Let me make up for it.”

You took hold of my jacket, and I halted at the unexpected gesture. I smiled, a way to try to deflect your plead, and said,

“No harm done, accidents happen. It will wash.”

I took another step to indicate that it was time to move on but instead, you said,

“Let me at least buy you a coffee.”

I stopped and looked at you. Your hair was damp from the drizzle, and you had a tearful look on your face. I sighed. I didn’t want to go home, but spending time with strangers was not how I usually spent my time, but your eyes pleaded for me to give in, and so I nodded.

“Okay.”

Relieved, you pointed at a café on the other side of the street, and I followed as you crossed the street. It was a small café, with tree garlands hanging from the window and lights that seemed to have been left since Christmas. You stepped inside, hesitantly looked around and walked up to the counter,

“The usual, but two cups,” I heard you say.

I took a seat by the window, and soon you arrived with two steaming cups and sat down opposite me. I glanced at you awkwardly, I wasn’t used to hanging out with unknown people, never mind those I’d just met on the street. Why had I said yes?, I wondered. You looked just as awkward, and we sat in silence until the waiter came over to ask if we wanted something else. I shook my head, but you ordered a muffin. I wondered what I should say, I wasn’t good at talking to strangers. But then again, you didn’t seem to either.

“So… Do you live here?”, you asked after a while.

I answered, grateful that the silence was filled.

“Yeah…And you?”

“I moved here last year.”

“Where do you live?”

“Over there.”

You pointed at the direction of the station.

“I wish I had somewhere nice to stay, though”, you continued.

“You don’t?”, I asked, surprised at the topic.

“No, only a small room I’m renting from an old lady, but it’s quite shabby.”

“It’s difficult to get somewhere to stay in this city”, I agreed.

I had been lucky and found my place before the worst of the housing crisis arrived in the city. I looked at my watch. It was getting late, and I should have stayed long enough to be able to leave. I got up and almost said thank you for the coffee when an unexpected thought came to my mind. My flat had a room free, and I was struggling to pay the rent. I’d had a roommate once, but she’d left, and I’d made do for a while, but prices were rising, and I found it hard to make ends meet. I glanced at you. I didn’t like taking in strangers, but you seemed kind enough.

“I have a room free if you want. It’s quite spacey.”

You looked at me surprised.

“You’re offering me a room?”

“Yeah, the rent isn’t much if we share it.”

I wondered why I had offered it, but I couldn’t back out now.

“You want to see it?”, I asked.

You nodded and got up, and I followed. After you paid, I led us out on the street again.

“It’s quite far, we can take the bus”, I suggested.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind walking.”

I did, but I didn’t want to disagree with you, so I gestured down the street in the direction of my flat. The walk was awkward, even now, when I should have something to say. But my mind stayed blank, and once we saw the door to the apartment complex, I was relieved.

“It isn’t much,” I said as we stepped in, suddenly conscious about what I was doing.

I led you up the stairs, put the key to the door and stepped inside. My flat was spacious, with white walls and an interior I’d put much effort into making my own before everything had happened.

“It’s so nice, you said under your breath as you stepped inside.”

I wasn’t used to being praised, so I didn’t know what to answer and instead walked over to the room that would be yours. When I opened the door, you simply stared at it.

“This is the one?,” you asked with eyes wide with surprise.

“Yeah…”

You turned to me and, slowly, a smile formed on your face.

“It’s lovely.”

“I’m… glad you like it.”

I couldn’t back out now, not now when you’d seen it, so the only thing left, was to set the formalities. We decided on a date to move in, what you would pay and what was included. It would be two weeks from now, and in that time, I worried sick what I had done. I didn’t think you would be dangerous, not at all, but living with a stranger I’d just met on the street wasn’t something I wouldn’t usually do.

As it turned out, however, I feared unnecessarily. That first day when you came, you cooked us dinner. Maybe you had prepared what to say because you seemed as awkward around other people as I did, but you asked me questions, and slowly we got to know each other. With time, we spent most evenings talking, and I began to enjoy spending my time at home after work.

That was three years ago, and you still live in my flat. Although, it’s ours now and you’ve moved into my room.