Coffee Line

     Gene walked into the coffee shop down the street from his office. The walk wasn't to long, but the winter weather had just started rolling in and he had neglected to wear his coat. He took a few steps into the shop, dragging his feet against the door mat and welcomed the warmth. He could only get a few steps in though, as the line was rather long. It was about 9:30 and the place was full of other people looking for a way to procrastinate before actually doing work.

     He stood behind a big guy in a red t shirt. The man had a foot on Gene, but hunched his back up so the height difference wasn't as noticeable. It seemed he also neglected to wear a coat, but Gene got the impression that this was by choice rather than neglect. The t shirt was tight on him too and didn't flatter his broad frame.

     As the line dragged on, Gene just stared at the back of this guys head. You can only stand behind someone so long before you start to hate them. The man had a shaved head, but Gene could still tell that he rarely showered based on the amount of bumpy red blemishes. The smell was another give away. It wasn't a terrible smell, it was just a smell that was clearly coming from this man. Almost musky, but not too overwhelming. Still, Gene tried to breathe mostly through his mouth.

     With each step the man jingled. At first, Gene though it was change in his pocket or something, but after closer inspection, it was a huge mess of keys hanging off his hip. There must have been twenty five keys on there, not to mention some huge key chains, one of which being a heavy pewter statue of a robot.

     'What an obnoxious amount of keys', Gene thought himself.

     When the man finally reached the front, he greeted the bored looking girl tending the register and looked up at the menu displayed above the counter. The back of his thick head bunched up into fat rolls when he looked up. He read the menu as if he hadn't been standing in line for the past seven minutes.

     He was cheerful when he finally ordered too. That some how made it worse. Did he not realize there were people behind him, waiting for him to make his order? Could he not feel the impatience surging?

     The man ordered a large iced coffee with extra creme and a cinnamon roll. In reality, the order probably took less than a minute, but it didn't seem like that. His order finished, he moved off to the side to wait for his coffee.

     Gene stepped up to the counter. The second he did, he could feel the same impatience surging behind him. It broke against him like waves. All he could think about was the growing line of people waiting for him to make his order. With the guy in front of him, Gene could redirect any impatience he felt, but there was no buffer now. He felt it all himself.

     The people standing behind him and hating him just as he had hated the guy in red. Gene could feel them looking at his stupid hair cut that he hated anyway, the way his shirt was tucked in, what he ordered. He could feel their attention on everything. He didn't dare look up at the menu. The only thing he could think to order was the iced coffee the man in red had just got. No cinnamon roll though. They would recognize that, the iced coffee alone could have just been a coincidence.

     Gene moved out of line like he was moving out from under a bus. He noticed that the man in the red was still in the cafe. He had gotten his coffee and moved over to a little station where you could add more sugar or whatever you wanted. Gene watched the man for a little bit longer. He was taking his time. He looked at the packets of sugar and the various types of creme that the cafe had provided. He though about what he wanted, and then added it to the cup.

      Gene got his coffee and moved to stand next to him, pretending to examine the various selections. The smell and the keys and everything else about this man was still there, surrounding him like an aura, but it seemed different now.

     Looking back at the line that had stood behind Gene just a moment ago, everyone looked as indifferent an bored at the girl behind the counter. The man in red took his time, got what he waned and jingled back onto the cold street in his tight red t shirt.