Solitude

I strutted my way along Swanston St as I headed back home. I like the sound of my thongs against the pavement. It has a consistent rhythm to it. Like the sound of the second hand on the clock in the middle of the night. I like the cool breeze against my cheeks. It reminded me of Japan when the snow flakes melted on my face. Only this time, it wasn't as cold. I took an intentional breathe of air and tried to breathe in the smells of the city. It was a concoction of smells - smells of a city that's about to go to sleep. I smell alcohol. And cigarettes. And car fumes. And food. A few bars were still open. I hear people laughing. I hear music pumping.

I stopped by Starbucks and deliberated whether I should get myself a cup of latte. I haven't had my dosage of caffeine today. So, one cup shouldn't be too harmful. A bloke behind the counter served me. A familiar face. He has been here for at least 6 months now. He winked at me before taking my orders. Pulling off his usual charm on girls. I've seen him done it a few times. That's his way of making his customers feel comfortable I suppose. His colleague, a petite Asian girl, was the cashier tonight. Another familiar face. I still remember her first day at Starbucks. The temperature was rocket high that day. Starbucks were full of patrons - taking advantage of the shade and air-conditioning. She was running around like a flustered chicken, mixing up some orders and being reprimanded by her supervisor. She still has the tense look on her face. I wonder why. Starbucks was pretty empty tonight. My order was ready within 2 minutes. I grabbed my coffee and decided to call it a night.

I guess this is what solitude does to you. I It makes you more aware of your surroundings. It makes you observe. It makes you learn.

p/s: I just finished my latte. I wish Starbucks made more decent coffee. The froth looks like foam that floats on the surface of a bubble bath. Except that its slightly brown. Well at least, its not burnt.