The fiction story

NEW! Every Monday now. The diary of the Espresso Woman. Part 1.

I wake up and I have no idea how I got here. The curtains are closed but it seems to be dark outside. The pillow is soft… Maybe I should sleep some more.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I’m waking up in a strange man’s bed (I bet you’re disappointed). I’m in my own bed in my own home. I just don’t know how I got here. To this point in my life, I mean.

They say that when you grow older you’ll be more experienced in life. Well, they don’t tell you that it means that stuff will happen to you. Real stuff. Hard stuff. I imagined it was gonna be a long smooth ride. Up and up, until you’re in heaven or something. And you’ll be experienced in a good way.

At least MY life was supposed to be like that. Whatever, it’s too early for this kind of thinking. It’s morning, the beginning of the day. The best part of the day – I love it. I’m a morning person who’ll be ready to go to bed by 3 p.m.


I like to start my day in a cafe. There’s this place I love which opens at nine. I’m usually there even before they have opened the doors. I mean – what kind of person stands outside a cafe fifteen minutes to nine in the morning?

This place has some weird regulars. There’s a tiny old woman who takes her coffee and porridge (kasha). Then after a while she leaves and asks the waitress not to touch her coffee cup as she will be back. She returns after ten minutes and continues with the coffee. I wonder where she is for those ten minutes. Every single day.

Another regular is an older man with a beard. He eats his porridge, drinks the coffee, reads the newspaper and then just sits there. I’m sure he’s not here for the Fashion TV (constantly playing). I wonder what he’s thinking of.

And then there’s a young guy with a kind of ponytail. I almost don’t notice him. He sits by the window his back towards me. His sight seems to be glued to his phone. But that’s a given these days, I suppose. Doesn’t he have a job? Doesn’t he study somewhere?

I feel sorry for the waitresses. For all these weird regulars. But maybe they don’t mind. They are really nice with all of them (us).

I wonder what they think of me. I come here all the time, they must think something of me. Do they consider me weird? Free coffee attracts some crazy crowd, that’s for sure….

To be continued next Monday….


2 thoughts on “NEW! Every Monday now. The diary of the Espresso Woman. Part 1.

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