Monday, September 19, 2005

I took a tiny table in a windowed corner, where I sat alone with a glass of water for a while. The clouds had returned in force over night and now churned powerfully, if not lazily, following the horizon as far as I could see.
The awkwardness of Michael's departure the previous afternoon had not lessened, and Andrew's strange behaviour still puzzled me. I took my hair down and combed it listlessly with my fingers as I gazed out the window, unconsciously following a particularly dark bit of cloud with my eyes...
Hope of finding Andrew here and getting some kind of answers to the growing myriad of questions that boiled furiously in the confines of my head had been gainless; according to the waitress he was not on the day's schedule, and never worked Saturdays besides.
Yet I sat for a while, in spite of myself, deciding perhaps to head over to Hal's and see if Noah were— but, then, Michael might be there.

It grieved me all at once, how everything had changed. I dreaded seeing the others, fearing the pain in their eyes at my wan appearance, and the strangness of worn relationships. What had happened to everyone? A sadness hung in the air over everything. What could have done this? Surely my departure hadn't caused such oppressive quietude, had it?
I rested my head on my arms, folded on the table, soft in the oversized gray of my sweater. A streak of lightning flashed from the sky to the ground in the distance.

"Hmm." The familiarity of that warm voice carried indelible delight. "What are you doing back here so soon? Couldn't get enough of that spaghetti?" I smiled up at him as Andrew slid into the seat across from me— I hadn't finished my spaghetti. "Hey..." He spoke softly, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I half smiled, then shook my head. "No." He was quiet for moment.

"Before I ask you what the matter is, can I get you anything?" He smiled. "Coffee... or somethin', you know, besides water?" He flicked the end of the bendy straw in my empty glass.

"Actually, some tea sounds pretty great right now." I assented.

"Cool, I'll just be a sec." Andrew grabbed my glass and strode away. There was surprisingly little time for me to organise my suddenly scattered thoughts before he returned, with a white teapot and cup, two oatmeal cookies, and a mug of coffee for himself. "Okay," He said, aligning the corners of four sugar packets. He tore them open, sighing as he emptied them into his coffee before he continued. "What's the matter?"
His vibrant blue eyes met mine gently from behind— wait... he was wearing glasses.
Andy never wore glasses.