Lucid Waking

Originally published on November 02, 2005

            There was nothing special about her, yet he seemed raptured. She had mousy brown hair and chocolate brown eyes and she wore a black tee shirt and jeans. Her right hand held an empty coffee cup and her left was wiping down a table with a wet towel. She smiled as if she knew he was watching her from his car in front of the shop.
            She turned and looked up at him. She put the empty cup in the garbage and placed the wet towel in the back room before walking out the shop to his car. He rolled down the window and looked up at her.
            “Can I get you anything?” she asked. Her voice was soft with a thick Scottish accent.
            “No,” he stuttered. He felt his face get hot.
            She just smiled and stepped back. “Why don’t you come in?”
            He took the keys out of the ignition and locked the door behind him. He followed her into the cool coffee shop and sat down at a table.
            “I’m just wondering,” she said putting a cup of coffee down in front of him and sitting down, “why you come every day. You never come into the shop.”
            He smiled “well-”
            The alarm clock went off slicing the silence in two. He rolled over crankily and slapped the button on the top.
            “Damn time,” he said getting out of bed and crossing the room to the closet, “why do I always have dreams right before seven o’clock?”