Samuel

Fischer
Simplicity
It was a Saturday morning, and rain pattered against the large windows that looked
out onto the busy street. The young man sat in the corner of the coffee house where the two
windows intersected it was nearly eleven and the spacious, bright room was filled with
people chattering away while ceramic cups and small silverware clattered creating a
beautiful symphony of commotion. It was the quiet buzz, that perhaps came along with the
early spring, and the energetic lull of the coffee house that made the young man feel alive. It
was the emerging trees and bushes as they showed small green buds at the tips of their
branches, and the intersection of the cold and warm renewing air that created a light fog
that drifted on the breeze outside. It was one of the servers, a beautiful young woman with
dark brown hair, who brought a steaming cup of hot black coffee over to the man. He
thanked her, and she smiled as she walked away. He grabbed the cup of creamer and
poured some into the steaming black abyss, watching the clouds of white swell and fill the
dark space, turning it into a still, opaque sea. How beautiful he thought