"Lindsay! Come here for a moment," my mother's voice pulls me out of my trance as I'm lying on the couch, aimlessly scrolling through social media.
"What is it, Mom?" I ask, without much enthusiasm, as I walk into the kitchen.
She's preparing breakfast, as usual, with the radio softly playing in the background. Without stopping, she says:
"They just opened a new Starbucks a few blocks from here. Why don't you go check it out? You've been cooped up all day."
My first instinct is to refuse. I'm not particularly a fan of Starbucks or coffee in general, but then I think I could use the change of scenery to tackle something important: researching more about my future university. I'd been procrastinating on that for days.
"Alright, I'll go for a bit. Do you want me to bring you anything?" I ask while grabbing my backpack and packing my laptop.
"No, thanks, enjoy." She gives me a warm smile and goes back to her task.
The new Starbucks isn't far; I arrive in less than ten minutes on foot. The façade is modern, with large windows and a minimalist design. I walk in, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee immediately envelops me. I order a latte and a croissant, then find a table by one of the windows with a view of the street.
I take out my laptop and turn it on. While waiting for it to load, I glance around the place. There's a cozy atmosphere, though it's not as crowded as I expected. I guess many people still don't know it's open yet.
Once my coffee arrives, I start browsing the university's website. Photos of old buildings and smiling students flood the screen.
I look up for a moment, and then I see him. It's the guy from the sports store, Sack. I'm not sure if he's noticed me, but it catches my attention that he's not alone. He's with another guy who seems to be talking animatedly. Sack, on the other hand, keeps his neutral, almost apathetic expression, but there's something about him that intrigues me.
I try to ignore him—I really do. However, my eyes seem to have a mind of their own, disobeying every time I try to focus on my laptop screen. They keep drifting back, inevitably, to the apathetic boy now sitting with his friend in the opposite corner of the café.
"Why is he here?" I think, frustrated with myself for even caring. I shake my head, determined to refocus on the university photos in front of me.
At that moment, he looks up out of sheer boredom… and our eyes meet. Both of us freeze for a second, like two statues caught in a staring contest.
I try to play it cool, quickly lowering my gaze back to my laptop, but in the process, I spill some of my latte onto the keyboard. "Great! Of course this had to happen right now!" I think, frantically searching for a napkin.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that Sack is still looking. He doesn't make any move to help, but there's something in his expression that confuses me. Is that a smile? Or am I just imagining things?
I try not to give it more thought, clumsily cleaning up the mess. I look up just as he glances at me again, and this time I hold his gaze for a second longer before quickly looking away, feeling strangely uncomfortable.
"This is ridiculous," I think, biting into my croissant to calm my nerves. But I can't ignore one thing: there's something oddly amusing about this interaction, though I don't understand why. I can't help but smile a little.
From his table, I'm almost sure Sack does the same. Or maybe I'm imagining it. Who knows?
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As I leave, trying to regain my focus, I feel like something's missing. Oh, right—my iron supplements. It's not like I love them, but they're necessary. I've had anemia for as long as I can remember, and while it's not the end of the world, it can be annoying. Sometimes I feel so tired that I think I might fall asleep in the middle of a conversation. Or worse, like I might faint after walking three blocks in the sun. My mom always tells me to take it seriously, but for me, the supplements are like that school assignment you hate but can't avoid: essential and terribly boring.I automatically check my bag. They're not there. "That's strange," I think, as my mind tries to recall. Oh no! They probably fell out when I took out my laptop. I let out a sigh, debating whether to worry or just resign myself to buying them again.