A Prompting Into the Future - 2015 and Beyond - 3. No I But Me

The coffee shop is packed.

Despite a forecast of partly cloudy skies a drizzle of unexpected rain and a cool breeze forces those of us without umbrellas off the street and to scramble for cover, me included. As a consequence every table inside is occupied, people are standing close and rubbing elbows as they switch hot cups from hand to hand—no paper cozies; it figures. The odd synchronous behavior of hand-switching might be amusing another time, but damp clothes and a chilled body mean navigating the room toward the counter and snagging a cup of hot coffee for myself.

The line is, thankfully, shorter than expected but it takes some maneuvering to make it to the condiment station and then back toward the entryway. It is still drizzling, and one could almost be happy for the crowd already inside just for the warmth.

Standing briefly near the door gives me a good vantage point to look around for a possible opening in which to plant myself. Noticing one open seat at a table for two in a corner makes me wonder why the seat is not already taken. A handsome, dark-haired man sits at the table alone. He is reading what appears to be a tattered, leather-bound journal with a water stained (if dry looking) cover while seeming to be in his own personal umbrella of calm.

Not wanting to attract attention to the available seat because my eyes linger too long in his direction requires dancing around people once again for a seat at the lone table with the sole available chair in the room. Victory belongs to the brave—and with that thought in mind my bottom plunked down onto the chair without offering so much as a ‘Hello’ or ‘Do you mind?’. Not making eye contact with my table companion requires looking out the partially fogged up shop window to my left; not many are braving the streets now as the earlier drizzle has become a steady rain; here for the long haul it would seem.

The outside and the rain hold my attention for only a short time. Not feeling melancholy or contemplative enough to stare out into the empty street, nor willing to think deep thoughts, means turning my head and then catching sight of my default companion staring at me.

“Are you not aware of boundaries?” he asks. His voice is deep, almost a growl but his face counters his voice with a spark of amusement—a brief curl at the left side of his mouth and a slight lift of his lower eyelids; his face is expressive.

“Well, yes… and no,” is my reply, thinking to be clever. He raises one heavy but well-defined, dark-haired eyebrow, prompting me to add, “Yes, boundaries are necessary although no boundaries have been crossed today.

“Besides, you don’t have to bark and growl at me. It’s not as if you’re a werewolf, you know.” It would be nice to be able to say that last line came out of nowhere and shrug it off but, no… there is a big pile of para-human books on my coffee table at home. That fact does not stop me from feeling a little self-conscious.

“No. Not a… werewolf,” he says. He laughs—the sound of it lacks the deep note of his original growly remark but it has a resonate nature to it. Is that a hint of something? The smile he offers me afterward though is genuine and natural.

Even though the smile makes me feel better about my intrusion. There is something about his denial, something in the timing of words, or the tone of his voice that makes me think. While it’s just not possible for anyone to be anything but human despite my interest in the subject… this definitely piques my interest.

As does he.