Prompt-tober 2015: Day Twenty-seven

I know I keep saying I am going to focus on content for my novel but these last few days have been just busy and it leaves my brain frantic and I can’t focus well on stuff I want to be really present when doing. So I might get a day or two before NaNoWriMo starts that I get to get some stuff sort of panned out but otherwise just gonna jump in with the few notes and ideas I have and see what happens! But for today I am using this tweet I saw from singer Tori Kelly as inspiration because it just made me smile.

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Even as the frazzled airline employee informs us of another delay I can’t be bothered to be upset. My final destination is just home; a lonely apartment where not even my cat is there to greet me because my sister took him while I was away. Around me people sigh deeply and I hear a few mumbled curse words, those make me smile to myself. I feel a little bad that these people seem to be in a hurry to get where they are going and stuff like mechanical problems are keeping them stuck here.

Airports are good for a few things; quick refueling (wither it be at a unique little spot, a favorite chain fast food place, or just a Starbucks), cleaning out junk on your phone, and of course people watching. But airports are no good for anger and lack of patience, I’ve watched a few people lose their cool in my travels and it’s always cringe-worthy.

On the bright side, this is a pretty nice airport to be stuck. I’ve gone through here quite a few times, mostly for work, and it’s always been one of the more easy ones to navigate and find a spot to relax for however long your layover is for.

Still frazzled airline employee lets us know it’s going to be at least two hours before they can get us on our flight. Instead of sticking around the gate, I pick up my bag and make my way down the hall, on a mission to hit up one of my favorite little shops in this place. It’s like¬†Starbucks, but homey and less crowded, I’ve never been able to figure out if they are exclusive to the airport or if they branch out into the city but I just hope they never leave here as long as I fly through.

Before I round the final corner I can already smell the amazing coffee and baked goods that are always flying off the shelves by passing by commuters. I get in line and decide on a chocolate chip bagel and a small coffee with two creamers and three sugars, once they are in hand I scan for a place to sit. Normally there are a few open chairs but I can’t seem to find any right now, the only open spot is a table made for three or four with a younger gentleman sitting alone starring down at some papers.

I walk over and when I am just upon his shoulder I clear my throat and speak, “Do you mind if I sit at the end of your table here to eat this quick?”

Even with the warning I seem to have startled him because he jumps a bit, making a few of his papers scatter to the floor. “Huh?” he looks at me like I am the deer that just jumped in front of his car, “Oh yeah! Of course, I’m sorry I am hogging a whole table.”

Bending down I get his papers and set them back on the table as I sit across from him. “No worries, usually this place is pretty quiet and I can snag a spot but it seems particularly busy today.”

The guy looks around as if he had no idea about the world going on around him. His hair is a shade of brown that matches almost exactly to the grounds of the coffee I have sitting on my counter at home, and it’s sticking in more than one direction, as if he had been running his hands through it repeatedly. When he twists back around he seems a little more calm, a little more with this world than the one he was just lost in. “So you’re a regular here then huh?”

Sipping from my drink I tilt my head back and forth, “Kinda. I mean I’ve definitely been here more than a handful of times. Any time a work trip brings me through this airport I try to stop, I’ll even look for layovers so I can once in a while.” I don’t know why I admitted that but it felt like he might understand, “What about you?”

“More than a regular. I own this place.” he says it so matter of fact, no sarcasm, no excitement or pride. It’s just a fact. My face must say something because he immediately reacts, “I inherited it from my aunt, she had no kids and I was her only nephew that bake with her at home. I wasn’t quiet ready to own an airport coffee shop slash bakery at the age of 27 but it happened and I couldn’t just let anyone else own it when she left it for me.”

His eyes got soft and his voice took on a fond tone as he talked, I don’t think he realized but I did. I wave my hand around to signify the whole place and say, “That’s awesome. I love this place, obviously, I like to finally know some history to it.”

“Oh there’s history.” He says through a wicked smirk, “How much time you got? I could tell you some stories.”

Looking down at my watch I mutter, “Ah I have an hour and…fifteen minutes, unless my flight gets delayed again. But this guy,” I pull out my phone and bring up my flight app, “Will let me know if that’s the case.”

He is already nodding vigorously across from me, anxious to share his stories, “Right, okay so my aunt Claudia was a badass…”

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