Maybe I was too much of a romantic, a hopeless romantic at that... One thing was for sure, this chapter is a short one, because all I have from this one is small images that are slowly fading away.
I remember she worked at an underground cafeteria at the college, and yes, this was while I was still in Denver. I can't recall her name, but she managed a small cafe and it seemed like she was a nice girl. My biggest excuse to drink coffee was to see if I managed to grow up some balls and ask her out.
This never happened. I only remember sitting down having small-second chats with her as she prepared my drink.
It was like a bad romantic comedy where the romance was missing and the comedy, well, it wasn't that funny.
My pathetic attempts at asking her out left me with nothing but the coffee's aftertaste. I would leave the cafe and go to class. Then I stopped going to class. Then I stopped drinking coffee.
Then I never saw her again.
If anything, she was a good ear to my troubles. She offered advice when needed, and she put up with me, although I am most certain she had plenty customers as myself.
Maybe after all, all I needed from her was an ear to my troubles.
And troubles were brewing just as the coffee was poured on my cup, slowly overflowing and dripping off.