Inside a cafe just a few blocks from the school gates, a girl was sitting by the window staring desultorily at the view from outside. Winter was just in time as she was clad in her warmest winter jacket, jeans and mufflers. But it is still cold.

"Here's your black coffee." The waitress, whom she knew casually from being a patron of the place, carefully set a warm cup of coffee she remembered she didn't ordered.

"But I didn't --"

"It's cold. You need something warm. It's on me." The waitress smiled before going back to the counter

Something warm for something (someone) cold. The girl stared at the coffee for a minute but whe she looked straight, she caught herself looking at the guy - with headphones in his ears - sitting on the table infront of her. Awkward, she returned to staring at the window. 

At the age of 8, she thought that there were always rainbows after every rain. At the age of 15, she thought that shooting stars are just rocks that have nowhere to go but to fall. At the age of 18, she questioned if hope is just a wolf in sheep's clothing. And now she's 20. A caffaine induced young adult burying her face and trying to find her worth and her future in those standardized chunk of knowledge bound in papers with pressure in all the right places. She's 20 and she's not happy. So she made her own rainbows and butterflies and golden roads to happiness but only to have her bubbles burst just before she was about to mold it. Resiliency, for her, has a limited resource.

The view from outside was no different. A girl who, was carrying boxes a little too many for her height, had bumped into a guy who seemed to be running late for work. Things from the boxes were scattered to the sidewalk but the guy could only yell and point a finger at the girl before sprinting off to God-knows-where. A boy, head bent down, with two of his classmates trailing behind him while they hit him with snow balls as he walked home. And a grandma crying to her grandson while pointing at their front yard covered with snow.

The door chimes. She snapped back to her drink.

"You're coffee is getting cold." the waitress told her as she collected the glasses from the opposite table where the guy was sitting earlier. 

She looked at the waitress before the cup. She wondered when did she ever saw the waitress without a smile on her face. Never. She also wondered why the waitress seemed to be looking after her a lot. What would she look like sans the smile on her face, she thought. But the clock from the wall caught her attention. She's late. So she took a considerate sip on the free coffee and noticed a note sticked to the cup. It'll get better, it says.

So she thanked the waitress before leaving. But all the waitress - note: with a smile on her face - said was, "It's not from me. Well, the coffee was on me but I didn't write that. It's from my brother. He asked me to give you a coffee and have that stick to it after he saw you twirling that pocket knife of yours."

"Oh. Well, just tell him I said thanks." she said.

"I'll make sure to relay that."

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Inside a cafe - in the same place but a different time - a lady was sitting by the window staring at her husband playing peek-a-boo with their two year old. From outside, spring has just began. 

At the age of 20, she was a sensitive and depressed girl who thought that self harm was easier than faking a smile. Now she's 30 and she's happy.  She couldn't hope for anything more than what was infront of her: a husband who loves to stick notes anywhere just for the sake of sticking it, and a bundle of joy whose laughter could trigger her laughter in every way. 

The view from outside was no different. A girl was jumping from joy infront of a newly purchased car. Three girls laughing together, playing with their dolls. And a boy watering a row of freshly bloomed chrysanthemums, picking one once an old lady passes by his house.

Life gets better. Make sure you'll be there to see it.

END.

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