I never did.
I became scared of becoming boring. Becoming the person, I was before I met you.
But it's strange.
Strange to believe, 5 months have gone by since you left. 5 years since I first met you.
The first man to have greeted me with a kind smile and words.
Your kindness dripped from your mouth like sweet honey from a honeycomb. The sudden little bell rang every time a customer came in, I was still working as a janitor. Jane was still alive; she was considerate enough to let a Nipponia work in her coffee shop. And I hadn't met Ktherine and her family. Jane was my closest "friend", sometimes she felt like a stranger and a family, she used to teach me the language that I now use every single day, a very strange language I had to learn. Forgetting of my own. But even then, I worked hard as I am now. And just like everyone else, you simply walked through that door, announcing your arrival. The cold air entered walking by your side, your usual long coat covering your black suit and tie. Very formal for a usual Tuesday morning, your steps were loud and a statement for everyone who could hear. Even I turned to see you, as you took off your grey hat off from your head, strands of your black silky hair dropped from your combed hair slicked back, even though you seemed to have used gel to keep them in place they disobeyed. I turned before I could see your face.
Maybe it was embarrassment what made my head turn, or really, I was scared you might find me ugly. You were a regular in this coffee shop, at first, you caught my attention, each day I became more interested, but I began to fear that you would see me. So, I would keep my distance. Just like everyone else who sees my face they make a disgusted face, I didn't want to see you make that expression. You sat down, I continued to clean the tables around me, as people came in and out. You stayed sitting, reading the newsletter, only ordering a white coffee, and to be exact, one waffle and a half. No syrup.
I could only see you from afar. Captivated by your mysteriousness.
Every single day of the week I continued to observe you. Each day you would come at the same time, order the same thing, paying always with cash. And leaving always the newspaper on the chair. This coffee shop became part of your routine.
Then, one Wednesday in the midwinter of September, when Jane asked me to serve the customers because she had a doctor's appointment, I finally saw your face. Your eyes were shaped like a cat's curious eyes… yet within them they held an unusual combination of blue like the ocean of my country and the green olive forest behind the coffee shop. The colors moved, unable to stay in one tone, they crashed into each other.
"Good morning"
The corners of your mouth turned up; your cinnamon skin glowed with the warm lighting of the coffee lights.
I smiled.
"Good morning, what will be your order?"
I had never felt more self-conscious of my strange accent in this language, worried if I had said it right or if you could at least understand me. You stayed quiet, inspecting my face, you winced and sighed in a smile.
"Two waffles and a black coffee, please."
I took my pen out and scribbled down your order. What made you change your usual order for something completely different. Then I paused, I hadn't asked for your name. As I took a deep breath, repeating the words I was about to say over and over in my head, making sure I would say them right I caught your eye looking at my name tag.
"Your name sir?"
You quickly turned to see my face.
"John," you added, your eyes shifting between the two hues, "My name is John Merlius."
"Thank you" Before you could say anything else I turned my back on you, quickly rushing to the kitchen. While I began cooking in the safe and enclosed place, my mind began to wonder. How could a man hold such precious eyes? Not even in my country had I seen a man with astonishing eyes like yours.
I began serving the other orders around the coffee shop, quickly scurrying through the small wooden shop, as my heels clopped around the floor. It was a strange day, you ordered something different, and your eyes were stuck to the happenings outside the shop. You had today's newspapers on the small table yet paid no attention to it. As I arrived with your black coffee, you were unaware of my arrival. Then came your waffles. As I remembered no syrup.
"Sorry for bothering, but could you bring me some syrup please."
Startled by your sudden request, I took a step back. "Of course."
"Thank you"
Once again you smiled.
After I had brought you the syrup, you started to eat. When you finished, you stood up, grabbing your coat and hat from your chair, you quickly zapped to the counter I was on. With a big smile showing your impeccable white teeth, you asked. "What is your name?"
"Citlali"