A weary groan escapes my mouth just as I try to stretch every limb. How is it morning already? A light shines steadily outside, strikes me in the eye once I turn my gaze towards the window. The sun can be an asshole every so often. Through the window is the ever-changing art in the sky, the clouds that brought infinite images of beauty. There is something in that feeling of gratitude, for all those gifts given so freely, all for spending a moment gazing into the blue heaven. So in these days, I just want to rest my head in bed, gazing through the window, watching the clouds dance around. I watch cloud patterns no eye has ever seen before or will again. It's such a casual beauty, transitory and eternal, ever so changing each second passes. They drift lazily in the breeze without any destination or purpose, as if every day is a Sunday morning for the clouds to enjoy. Can a person reincarnate as clouds? Because that sounds so ideal right now instead of waking up this early in the morning. A kind fluffy cloud moves slowly in the morning sky just to cover me from the rays of the sun. Thank God for clouds to exist.
With a weary arms and legs, it's impressive how I could push myself out of bed. The gravitational force from my bed once I've gotten out of it gets stronger and stronger. It whispers for me to get back to bed. Unfortunately for the whispers, I have a mission to finish. There's no stopping me when it comes to my agenda. And that agenda is, find out about mystery woman's actions after seeing the letter I've left for her.
As much as I want to bide my time in the showers, the anxious feeling pounds constantly with no planning to end until I'm in the Café. It's that same anxious feeling that I felt once I've left that damn letter for the mystery woman. I'm just going to hope that it was worth it in the end. Better yet, I hope the mystery woman has some bad memory that she immediately forgets about the letter and I could just continue on to my life-as if I have some thrilling one.
After a quick rinse, I stroll my way back to the bedroom, the cloud that covers my eyes from the sun is still in its place when I gaze out of the window. My bed really looks so inviting, but I have to resist. I just have to get some clean clothes in my wardrobe, no need to stare intently to my comfortable bed that might help me sleep through the day without any problems. Shoving my first dirty clothes for the week into the laundry basket, I pull open my wardrobe as if I'm in a fairy tale, but that thought died once I got a glance at the monochrome clothes. "At least I have clothes," I mutter under my breath.
With a sigh, I skim around my wardrobe to find something I'm in the mood to wear today. I feel a bit experimentive today-is that even a word?-I pick up a black-onyx shade turtleneck sweater and a same shade of black trench coat. For the bottom, I pick up a fossil shade pants and of course underwear-more specifically, boxer brief because I don't like wearing tight ones. After shoving my body in these clothes, it's time to choose what shoes I could pair up with this outfit. While I pull my powdery-white socks in my feet, I just realized how this might be my first time caring about my fashion. Well, I do be feeling experimentive today-even if that might not a real word, I would still use it for my own enjoyment. After the socks, I decided to just select raven-shade boots. I just love boots, for some reason. No, wait, I do know that reason. It's because, if I recall correctly on what Spencer asked me, the mystery woman loves boots. So clearly, this caring about my fashion is just an excuse to at least be fashionable for the woman.
Never have I ever become like this to a person before, and if romance novels taught me anything, it's because we're meant to me. Okay, that sounded like a douchebag thing to say, but blame it on romance novels. Besides, romance novels tells how both men and women act and think when it comes to love. The spectrum between, nerd boy, athlete boy to bad boy, and therapeutically-worried-about-this boy have been portrayed in some romance novels. Same towards the spectrum of shy girl, smart girl to badass girl, also therapeutically-worried-about-this-girl. Each author portrays different kinds of men and women in their romance novels, it's just up to the reader what kind of romance they crave. I mean, who am I to judge, considering I'm God-awful at love.
After I tucked in to my outfit of the day, I grab my phone and plug it out of the charger. When I open my phone screen, I'm surprised someone message me, but that surprise slowly died out when I found out the Aileen is the one who messaged me. My hopes about an editing company messaging have died and only to be replaced by excitement on how Aileen messages sound.
Aileen: Come quick, your coffee is ready, and I want to show you something I've done in the Café.
Now that sounds promising. The coffee part is what sounds promising, but the other one, not so much. I'm all for my coffee being ready, but my anxious part is about what she wants to show me. Well, I'm going to find out soon enough. Besides, what's important is my coffee being ready.
I stare intently at the message, contemplating whether to send her a reply or just leave it at read. Deciding not to send a reply, I shove my phone in my pocket and the rest of my stuff-wallet, notepad and pen-before sauntering my way out of my apartment. Locking the door behind me, I realized that at this time of day, Kate would have been leaving for work. But when I walk closer to her door, I don't hear any movement or any resemblance of a person getting ready for work. Even after a second of listening, the door didn't budge open. She must have left quite early. Shrugging out the thought, I continue on my way down the stairs.
A memory entered my mind in a heart beat. If there's even a chance a person could have heard me singing in the laundry room, where are they at? I'm guessing they live in the same building as me, but in what floor? They could have lived on the same floor as me for all I know. The unsettling part of this realization is that the person who heard me sang and watched might know who I am.
I jog down the stairs as fast as I can, worried about getting recognized me from the laundry room-whether someone did watch and heard me or not, I'm that paranoid. Once I've reached the first floor, I scurry my way out of the apartment complex, nearly trip over. I try my best to look like a person who's not paranoid about being recognized by some stupid reason, casually glancing around the streets as if it's a wonderful day to have a stroll around the small town. Once I think have a considerable distance away from the apartment complex, I let out the breath I've been holding.
Remember to breathe, Declan. Don't fantasize about wolves chasing you, you're not somewhere in the middle of the woods.
After a moment, I finally got my proper composure together. I really wish I can be those professional people, with just a snap of their fingers their composure is back with a blink of an eye. Sadly, I'm not like those professionals, I'm just a regular person with a strong anxiety. A thought and also a question enters my mind like some surprise visit from my extended family. I dig a hand in my pocket to grab my phone. Slowing my walking pace down as I type in the question in the search bar.
How to look professional?
It's silly, but at least the internet gives me like 20 ways to look professional. One of them is being organized, which is already a no for me. The article says something about being organized means a person know what they are supposed to be doing at any particular moment. It also says that it means they know the tasks that need to be prioritized or delegated. Just take a look in my apartment room and see how unorganized I can be, plus my mind lives with chaos at this point, so no organization in my brain whatsoever.
Next one is punctuality. I mean, I think I am a punctual person. Does having a personal schedule fit in with being punctual? The definition of punctuality by this article means arriving to work on time, being in time for any meetings a person need to attend and notifying the manager in case a person think they will be late because of one reason or the other. Well, I'm not here to brag, but I'm quite punctual when it comes to getting my coffee. For me, that counts as punctuality. So, that's one out of 20 things to be professional.
The third one is dress the part. This one can be problematic, since I don't dress to impress-except today because I want to have a great impression from the mystery woman. Even the article says something, most people will judge a person based on their appearance, which means how a person dress is an extension of their personality. Looking down at my clothes, I believe that my personality looks dulls and boring. But at least it's nice looking? Yeah, let's dab some little positivity here, Declan.
Next one is being reliable. I didn't realize that I chuckle at trying to imagine me being reliable. I don't even try to socialize, let alone be reliable to people. Even the article states that being reliable means not giving people any unwanted surprises, such as going missing on the day a person was supposed to make an important presentation. Showing that a person is reliable will help them have better relationships with their colleagues. I just realized this whole article is mostly about businesses workplace rather than a daily life thing, but I shrug off the idea since it can also be a daily life thing. Continue to reading the last statement, a person is less likely to be laid off when their boss knows they are dependable.
Being reliable is off my list, especially this next one, be a good communicator. Does being professional have to do with being able to socialize well to other people? The article says that to be a good communicator, a person needs to be a good listener. Am I a good listener? I don't know, but do I have the balls to ask people who knew me if I'm a good listener? No, I prefer not to sound demanding. Plus, I rather talk about someone else than talk about myself.
The sixth one is confidence. Another problematic one for my part. I got to fix my self-esteem issues, huh? Anyway, the article states that confidence also involves acting in a manner that shows other people they know what they're doing. Confidence makes a person looks professional for a number of reasons. Yeah, that's like the foundation of being professional, no shock there. Continuing on, if a person is confident, they won't be afraid to share their ideas and opinions, and they won't be afraid to take up challenges and responsibilities. Way to bully me on that one, article.
I'm just going to move on away from that part and on to the seventh one. Be accountable. It says here that, if a person notice things going wrong, they're not afraid to bring it to their boss's attention and propose ways to fix it. People who are not accountable will often track down other people or things to blame whenever they make mistakes. I mean, I don't have the confidence to blame someone else for my mistakes, so I think I get a pass on this one. How many points do I have? I don't know, I've lost count and just got busy evaluating myself.
I'll just try to read three more, since there's a lot and I just want to read half of the list. Now, the next one is, maintaining a positive attitude. My pessimistic brain will be going to have fun on this one. I can already tell by how the article defines a positive person: They are willing to look for solutions and will motivate others to give their all at work. It also says here that a positive person is also more receptive to feedback and criticism. I don't know, those toxic positivity people might say otherwise.
Shrugging out that thought before it drags me into a deep assessment about life, the next one on the list of looking like a professional is being respectful. This one is fairly straightforward really, I don't need to read what the article says about being respectful. I don't back-stab anyone in my life-at least, I hope so. I don't really talk much, and I believe silence is an underrated form of respect to other people. Well, except when there's a revolution which a person needs to state their position to show their respect. But yeah, that one is quite straightforward and on to the next one.
The last one-for today at least-is willingness to take charge. The article just shoots me with a "Take charge and rectify it". First and foremost, I don't like being in charge, I get pressured easily. Even reading this article gives me pressure about being professional. So yeah, that one is a no to me.
When I felt my body stopped walking, I glance up to see the Café right in front of me. Thank God for muscle memory, without that, I would have banged my face to the glass. I save the article page in my bookmark for me to continue reading it later, for now, I need to get my coffee and check out what Aileen wants me to see.
Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I push open the glass door and saunter in the establishment. A familiar song enters my brain as I try to comprehend the lyrics. Once I get closer to Aileen's massive grin behind the counter, the music got louder, and I finally remember the title of the song. Perfect Two by Auburn.
"Surprise!" Aileen hollers from behind the counter, "I told you I'll find a person who can to the speaker job within a day." My respect for Aileen's ambitious personality grows strong each time. Plus, the song is quite perfect for the Café ambiance. Before I could show my respect for her, she dismisses my with a wave of a hand. "Go ahead and find somewhere to sit, I need to brew your espresso since it got cold on waiting for you."
With a nod, I reach in my wallet to place my payment on the counter before saunter off to find an available table. When I glance around the establishment, a familiar face caught my attention and made me hold my breath in awe. The mystery woman is right there, sitting by the window, her delicate fingers surround the porcelain cup which is filled with some kind of tea. She glances out of the busy streets with such hope glistening in her enchanting brown eyes. I glance at the wall clock, she's quite early to be here. Perhaps she needs her tea in a hurry, but why would she be in a hurry? An early date, perhaps? Who know? And I'm just hurting myself with stuff that might be true.
I spot an available table that force me to face towards the mystery woman, of course I take that spot since something about admiring this woman from afar feels like a fairy tale. Once I've sat to my chair, I get a great view of her glistening brown eyes from here. I believe there's an alternative universe where my profession is a photographer who already captures that delicate woman right in front of me. Capturing more than her smile towards the busy streets, but the smile of her soul, thankful for being alive. I remember what my professor in college used to say about photography, A one set of eyes can see the whole picture, but a two set of eyes can see the whole story. If I remember correctly, my professor's name is Mr. Winchester? I don't quite remember my college years. But I do remember a love story that forms in that photography class.
I wonder where those two are? Perhaps somewhere where they can love and admire each other forever and ever.
Shaking away the thought, I focus on the woman who's somehow more invested in staring at the streets than sipping her tea. For some reason, I sense that something might happen. I can't put my finger on what will it be, but I sense that it has something to do with me being here with Aileen rushing me. Perhaps it's just me overthinking while paranoia runs around my head. "It's probably nothing," I mutter, forcing myself to take a deep breath to calm my whole state. I didn't even have my coffee yet, and I can already feel a bit of palpitation in my system.
For once, please, I want a day without feeling any anxiety or any chaotic thing I'm having. Not where the mystery woman might see me have a random mental breakdown in public. That would be embarrassing. I glance toward Aileen and hoping that she'll brew my coffee quick since I don't know any other thing to make me calm. Coffee might give me an opposite of calm, but it won't get rid of my anxiety, it'll only make me anxious faster. Closing my eyes as I try to calm myself with just my breathing, a hope spark deep inside me, a feeling that the mystery woman might have glanced towards my direction. But I didn't open my eyes until I have my coffee, I'll just busy myself on calming my breathing.