The Shape of Love 2.0

After some *overwhelming* reactions after my last Blog entry (“Maan, I hope you talked to that guy!” / “I didn´t know you had…feelings?” / “You went to STARBUCKS???”) I have to say thank you for being so great readers.

As a gift to Fränzi, here´s a pimped up version of The Shape of Love. Pick the one you like better.

After all, who´s to say what really happened in that coffee shop.

I only came inside to get out of the rain. I swear. There’s nothing else that would tempt me to come in this god forsaken place. Not the abominable coffee, nor the hipster atmosphere, nor the music (which is wannabe-jazzy). Nevertheless, I have ended up sitting on an uncomfortable bar chair without backrest, in front of the dirty window, overlooking the harbour. I take a sip from my overpriced coffee, which came in a plain white mug without the overly famous logo that everyone knows, without a double-nicaragua-espresso shot, without any pumpkin spice. On the street in front of me I see people packed in raincoats, defiantly fighting against the loss of their umbrellas (most of them having pathetically given up this endeavour). I look around. To my right, a group of English speaking folks on some cosy armchairs. Gosh you´ve been sitting there forever. Don´t you have work to do? I feel a slight chill from the sudden breeze that resulted from the door being opened and I turn my head. Seriously, close that damn door! Outside, the street lamps, which hang on wires that are stretched over the roads shake alarmingly. The patriotic flags that tower over some of the buildings dance wildly in the wind.

Beware, people of Midgard, Thor has come.

The clocks strike twelve.

Universities close, the government has advised people to leave work early. Little frightened school children are fetched by their overprotective and worried parents. Do not be outside unless you have a good reason.

As for me I certainly do not. The short walk from my new home to the coffee shop has been enough for today. My trousers are still wet. No wonder with the temperatures in here. It´s freezing! Turn up that damn heater!

So, really, I only came inside to get out of the rain. And you might well have done the same. The door closes behind you and the breeze dies. Finally. You stand there for a second, squint, and remove your hood. Your hair is a mess. I mean really, when have you last taken a shower? But something about your face leaves me looking a little longer than one ought to. A strange face. You catch my eye and I quickly avert my eyes, back to the screen, unable to hide a slight smile. In the corner of my eye I can see you going to the counter, placing your order. Please, order take-away. 

Outside, the storm has grown stronger. A cyclist, desperately trying to make it safely through the gusts of wind. His own fault when he takes the bike in this weather. A car driving through a puddle, ruining the dress of a woman, Carry Bradshaw style. I giggle. A sudden wind blow sends restaurant advertisement signs flying through the air. People hold on to railings, desperately trying not tob e blown away. One thing was sure: There was no going out in the next hour, maybe longer. Thor was raging over the city, punishing the ones who did not heed the weather warnings. No empathy whatsoever. I feel a certain relief that I brought two books, a laptop cable, headphones and a bottle of water. I could survive in here for quite some time without being bothered by any of the annoying people.

The horrible screeching sound of a chair being moved to my left. Your messy hair bent over a cup of tea. Watch out, or you'll get hair in that tea.. Oh never mind.  You look as if you had taken a bath and had forgotten to dry yourself afterwards. Or forgotten to take your clothes off, for that matter. Your shoes certainly have seen their last day. You shiver, warm your hands on your beverage, stirring from time to time.

A sudden thought comes to my mind.

Why in the name of God do the strange ones always sit next to me? I don’t want to leave this coffee shop, while there´s a rehearsal of ragnarökr outside.

So I take my headphones, open my book and choose not to mind. What choice do I have anyway?


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