A well-dressed woman wearing a black pant suit and blue shirt sits alone at a table in Starbucks with her laptop open in front of her. She ignores the rush of kids that storm into the little coffee shop as she looks over the paper work in front of her and continues typing her notes. The way she flips back and forth between the papers tells me she is either trying to find something she missed or is obsessively making sure she didn’t miss anything. Her short ash blonde hair is tucked neatly behind her ear, and the intricate labyrinth of lines on her face show that the years have not been kind to her. With a huff, she distractedly answers the phone that hasn’t stopped lighting up with notifications for the past few minutes. I cannot hear what she says, but her demeanor changes, the lines on her face smooth out, and she reveals a radiant smile. She eases back into the chair and absent-mindedly runs her hands through her short hair, untucking the strands from behind her ears as she laughs at what the caller has just said to her. I no longer she an aging woman, slaving over paper work, but an individual who is full of life and love for the person on the other end of the line. She hangs up her cell phone and looks down at the paper work in front of her. She shakes her head, still smiling from the phone call and begins to pack up her things. Once everything has been neatly placed in her satchel, she gets up and walks out the door seemingly happier than she was before.
A man wearing khaki pants and a plaid button down shirt sits on a bench. He is older, but the stresses of life have yet to make their appearance on his face. His legs are crossed at the knee and in his hands, is not an electronic device, but a novel. I can’t make out the title of the book because it is worn in the way books get from age and use: fading colors and script on the outside, a split sign, and bent corners. This is likely a book he has read many times. The pensive expression on his face never changes as his eyes consume the words on the page or when he turns the familiar leaves. He temporarily removes his spectacles and rubs his eyes in order to relieve the strain that the small script is causing on his aging eyes. Before placing the frames back upon the bridge of his nose, he cleans the lenses with the edge of his shirt. He is only back to reading momentarily before another man sits next to him on the bench. At first, he pays no mind to the stranger, but then the man begins talking to him, so he closes his book, but leaves his thumb inside the book as a placeholder to return to when he is done conversing with the new man.
She sits at a table with her friends doing homework. Her dark, curly hair bounces as she speaks animatedly to the brunette next to her. Her phone makes two quick buzzing sounds and lights up. She looks down and reads the notification that popped up on her phone screen. She then puts her phone down and returns to her conversation. Her friend says something amusing and she tilts her head back and laughs. They continue their conversation, and then her phone buzzes again. She rolls her eyes, shakes her head, and raises her index finger to her friend to tell her to hold on as she types a quick response to the sender. After pressing the send button, she haphazardly places her phone back on the table in a frustrated manner. She turns to her friend and the easy-going smile is gone from her face and she begins talking to her friend in a less energetic way. As she is conversing her friends face turns concerned. It is evident that they are discussing the contents of her recent text message as she exasperatedly points to her phone and picks it up. She shows the offending content to her friend who squints as she attempts to read the small script.