The Stands of Memory

“Fuck you, Connor! After all these years of friendship, what do you go ahead and do? Make out with my girlfriend behind my back? I can't believe you!”

“Calm it down, Matt. So what if I hooked up with her? I have to admit she has one great bod. You definitely have great taste in women, so what's so bad about me hooking up with her? It's not like you own her anyway.”

“Connor, I'm appalled at how you're talking about her, but at the same time, I'm not at all shocked. The fact that you still keep smiling about this whole thing though is just something I can't abide. She has a personality, bro. I didn't pick her just 'cause she looked hot, though I'll admit that did play a part. More to the point though, whatever friendship we had, that's gone, and that's on you, man.”

“Aw, Matt, why'd you have to be like this? Come on—it's not like I raped her or anything—she consented.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, Connor? Because if so, you failed at that massively. Why the fuck would you think that'd make me feel better? If anything, I'd've been even more upset if that had been the case.”

“Dude, calm the fuck down. You're making a huge deal out of nothing.”

“Calm the fuck down.....(he paces).....CALM THE FUCK DOWN? YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN AFTER YOU BANGED MY GIRLFRIEND? NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!”

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME, CONNOR. I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE EVER AGAIN.”

“But......but......”

“GET OUT!”

(Connor walks away. He walks and walks, focusing on the road ahead, save for a momentary glance back at the guy who used to be his best friend. Connor stares briefly at that moment, searching for even a hint of sympathy from his former friend. He finds none, then walks away.)

(Matt at this point is in a state where he doesn't know what he even feels in the first place. His body is tense—even slightly jittery—but at the same time, it's not like he could really do a whole lot. After all, he lost two people that day—his girlfriend and his best friend—and that alone would normally break many people. Coupled with betrayal, however, from the two people whom he most liked, and it was just too much for him.)

(Matt decides to walk a while. His home isn't very close by, but he's not planning on heading home, at least not then. He has other things on his mind—racing with thoughts much like the cars heading off, seemingly as fast as the wind permeating the air—and all those things make him not wish to return home until he has calmed down sufficiently.)

(Walking through the streets, a multitude of flavors, smells and scents assaulted him at once. Off in one corner, a hot dog cart ensured that the smell of freshly cooked sausage filled the air with its meaty aroma, while off in another corner, pretzels hung on a rack, their salty, bread-y smell permeating the air. Less pleasant smells, like the sulfurous smell of gas, and some piles of trash also could be noticed, but he kept on walking. Even though the sun had dropped a bit, it was still shining across the sky, but he was undaunted. Matt wanted his caffeine fix, and at that moment, thoughts swirled in his mind about it. Much like the junkie who dreams of his next high, Matt dreamt of the coffee. After a while more of walking, a tall, brick-laden building with glass windows came up. In a corner of the building was the entrance to the coffee shop. Matt saw it and opened the door, and once inside, closed the door.)

At the front of the coffeeshop, with the smell of burnt coffee grounds permeating the air, stood an elongated table, taken from scraps of wood formed into a rectangular shape, behind which stood the barista. At that moment, Matt approached the barista. The barista was one of those guys who would fit the stereotypical image of a “hipster”—a man with a long, lumberjack-style beard, with clothes purchased at Urban Outfitters—who was skinny but whose sleeves were covered by an assortment of tattoos, and whose smirk could have outclassed that of even the most determined jokester, but at that moment, Matt wasn’t focused on that. Matt wanted his coffee, and so, he approached the barista.

“What’ll you be having today, sir” the barista said cheerfully (a bit too cheerfully for Matt’s taste)

“Just a medium coffee” Matt replied.

“Would you like to put anything on that coffee” inquired the barista.

“Nope. Just black” replied Matt.

“Ok. One medium black coffee. Your total is $1.25”

(Matt gave the barista $1.50 and then said to the barista “keep the change”.)

“Now which of these tables could I sit in? That one has a couple of people and I kinda don’t wanna have to deal with a group of people right now, but on the other hand, it’s not like anyone’s really gonna care but I do care, but what’s gonna happen and I honestly don’t even know.”

(He was in a bit of a daze for a couple of minutes, until he finally found a table to sit in. At that moment, he was still in a bit of a daze, and had forgotten about his coffee. He took his seat, took a deep breath, and just sat there.)

The barista, for his part, saw Matt's cup of black coffee as the steam from the heated coffee wafted up in wisps into the air like the incense released by a censer. He decided to give the cup of coffee to the customer who ordered it. After all, it's not like a huge amount of customers were inside. Hell, no one was entering at the time, so the barista decided to go ahead and give the coffee back to the guy who ordered it.

Grabbing the cup, the barista, holding the cup in his hands, walked a bit before seeing a guy sitting forlornly in one of the tables. His hair fell in bangs over his forehead, and he looked as though he were uncomfortable. He seemed worn down as well, with bags under his eyes and an expression that though seemingly that of a person whom feels secure in the world, hid something greater from the other person.

Seeing the man, the barista approached him, and said “Sir, uh....here's your coffee.”

Matt was still in a bit of a daze, but he snapped out of it rather quickly, and in a slightly embarrassed, yet earnest, tone of voice, was thankful.

“Thanks for the coffee. Thanks so much. I'd forgotten it earlier and you remembered to bring it. Thanks oh so very much.”

“No prob."

After that, there was a slight, awkward stillness in the air, where for a second, it seemed as though the world had come to a stop. Eventually, Matt decided to break the awkward silence when he spoke to the barista.

Nervously, Matt said “Um, would you mind staying here a while? I'm kinda a bit on edge, and it'd be really nice if you could stay here, seeing as how you brought me the coffee when you could've just as easily thrown it away.”

The barista was a bit uncertain, and asked “are you sure you want me to stay here? That seems a bit too forward from you. After all, we didn't even know each other before this, and now you're asking me to sit with you? Don't get me wrong, I'm fine with doing it, but it seems as though this feels a bit off for some reason.”

(Matt paused a second and thought a while. When finished, he turned back to the barista and began to speak.)

“Look, I know that we didn't know each other before today, but at this point, I could care less about that. Sitting next to someone who has treated me the nicest out of all the people I've dealt with today, especially from people who I used to consider my friends and partners, is something I want to do, since I'd at least feel better. At the end of the day though, who really gives a shit?”

“Sir, uh, okay........” stammered the barista.