“Tomorrow is the first day of winter,” he stated.

“So?”

“Lets enjoy the snowfall together.”

“I have work.”

“I’ll wait for you to finish.”

A sigh. She bit her lip, knowing this was giving in.

“You promised.”

“Fine.”

A small bell chimed in the humble café. The sound bounced off all the glossy pastel walls, resounding softly at her ears. But she just overlooked. In the white counter in front, was a brewing hot cup of vanilla that was actually, oddly, made for her.

The windows were growing foggy; the sun was still up and shining, but gradually became darker. Clouds emerged from the clear sky, dripping a shower of rain.

There weren’t many people in this café except for a young man at the corner, with light hair and a mysterious façade that was stirring his coffee, eyes glancing timidly to her. His hair was sharp and although his face was stoic, it was obvious.

The amount of affection he gave her was conspicuous.

Almost spilling.

Explicit.

There were two best friends in front of him, who were catching up on their own college homework, in between sips of their heated and comforting tea.

There were also a few other customers, but nil ignited a light in her knowledge.

It wasn’t the bell ring that made her distracted.

But the familiar rhythm and frequency of aciculate footsteps on the ground caused her to observe the root of the noise. She felt overwrought, but knowing it was impossible, her expectancy went down the drain.

The young bloke that had just entered the café had dark brown hair, under a fluffy blue beanie. He was wearing grey track pants, a thick black jacket on top of his black wife-beater, and a pair of faded blue converse. He had a pinkish nose – probably due to the cold – and half of his face was hidden under his bangs.

Seeing it was just another customer, the barista just closed her eyes again. 

Letting herself be abstracted.

Careless.

The quidam customer’s walk was ambled, like he was in no rush to anything. As if he knew that he had plentiful time to himself.

As if he knew the natures forces.

 As if he even knew, himself.

His grey converse kissed the crystal clear tiles underneath him and unknowingly the ends  of his shoelaces were squished harshly; causing the aglets to be close to having a small escapade.

He walked up to the counter and stood there, not wanting to wake her. Querulous. The whole café became agitated and inaudible, the birds chirping and the iridescent wind outside were the only source of sound.

She glimpsed one eye open before she sighed.

“Yes?”

“One Vanilla Frappuccino please,” a husky voice spoke gently, “Less coffee, more cream.”

She shot her head up at the mention of his order; it was attenuate for someone to order that, yet it had been her own preference. Coffee was much too bitter and something sweet was always cardinal. Otherwise it wouldn’t be delectable. Wouldn’t be good enough.

Sensing herself feeling adulated, tight-brained, she froze. Blinked. And had to reconstruct herself, building them all back up. Forbidding.

Not daring to repeat the complicated .

No way.

“But don’t overdo the cream, Soojung.”

Her eyes enlarged and without the customer having to contemplate, he acknowledgged her reaction.

“You have a name-tag,” he scoffed, “Silly.”

She stared at him for a while, but at no attempts did she get the picture clearly. Because he originally thought he wasn’t aiming at degrading the barista, he remained immersed in his thick book. ‘Maze Runner’, it said on the cover.

He just lifted one knee up and leaned on the stool in front.

“Take out?”

 A nod. Eyes not willing to leave the book’s pages.

The blender shook, causing the counter to quiver. Time passed by, as they both remained there, he was sitting on the stool, engrossed in his own world, with her eloquently brewing up his order. The world around them just seemed to move by as more customers rushed in and out, taking their orders and leaving to their destined places. They were the two people caught up in a crowd of rushing people, and the only two that were not moving.

Indolent and amicable, the world around them became a mix of blurred grey frequency.

One of the two college girls was just about to get up and leave, heeding a small wave towards her. She stopped midway as she peered her head to the left a bit to see the fellow customer who was mesmerized in his book. Her cheeks tinted a baby shade of pink before she walked out of the café with her face hidden underneath her pink jacket’s hood.

“Here,” the barista placed the Vanilla Frappuccino at the counter, “12,400 won.”

He placed his book to the side and took out his wallet, slapping three 5,000 won bills on top of the white receipt.

“Thank you. Keep the change.”

He then stood up and faced her, the two people locking eyes. They bore at each other, silence engulfing them; he beamed and she mustered a small smile. Sighs coloured the windowpane white as if they were to faintly conceal the reality of the moment. She flushed a bit and she was the one to look away.

At the sudden lengthy, silence the nosy young man at the corner of the café, who was just staring out the window, became curious. And as he recognized the encounter of the two he heaved a sigh and bit his lip.

He started to feel timorous. Somber.

The customer then chuckled and took a small object out of his pocket and put it on top of the bill. With that, he walked out of the café.

She apprehended that he left something behind but he was already out of sight.

Not knowing what to do with the small object, she frowned and placed it cautiously at one empty slot of the cash register. Just in case he ever came back asking for it.

The young man at the corner saw another barista enter the shop and smiled. He unfolded the red coat held in his lap and passed his arms in the sleeves, wrapping the newspaper and placing it back at the stand. He strolled to the counter.

“Your time is up.”

“Okay.”

She took off the cute pastel green and white apron and placed it on a hook, just behind her. She fixed her baby blue jeans and put a loose grey sweater over her white V-neck. Adding a white scarf as a conclusive touch, she toddled out with the young bloke.

As soon as she stepped out of the café, she inhaled the sweet and cold smell of nature’s gift and stepped on the clear white snow. Her footsteps being muffled but nevertheless left marks.

After not getting this taste in too long, she felt it. The pure white snow. She loved it. The memories that the winter brought to her heart.

Being childish, she adolescently cupped up a handful of snow and shaped it to a sphere and while the latter was immersed in a text message, she threw it harshly at his back and watched it fall to pieces. Giggling.

When he comprehended the hit, she abruptly ran elsewhere. They both laughed boisterously and chased each other out in the late evening winter snow.

From far away, the customer from before watched along as he frowned, she was growing closer and closer to him. Intimate.

He felt a bundle of agonized hurt, yet he really shouldn’t have. Of course, eventually, she’d get sick of putting her walls up.

Sick of anticipating nothing.

Sick of damaging herself.

Sick of him.

However, his emotionality was still pure. Just like always. Even if the rationality, itself, was missing.