Comfort was found in a caffeinated beverage on a cold winter night for Melissa. A couple days have passed since Christmas, but the festivities were still active in the middle of Manhattan. Walking around in ten-degree weather was never the most appealing activity to do without a reliable cup within her hands. Despite the dominant appeal to a sweeter taste in one’s coffee, she preferred to keep herself distant from sugar crashes by taking it black.
Honks were a familiar sound for her to hear, everyone had to be somewhere all the time. It wouldn’t feel like home without those horns, the variety in sounds made for some interesting music pieces. Perhaps her ears weren’t pitch perfect, but the sounds of the city weren’t as susceptible to becoming white noise.
Perhaps the violin would have been a better choice, the higher note possibilities made catching the attention of those who walked by her far more likely. A viola wasn’t so bad since lower notes did have a much richer sound than any violin could provide. Still, it was difficult to bring out such tone when cars were honking all over the place. Seems like the C string wasn’t going to be so effective today.
Though the environment demanded that Melissa stop playing her instrument, it was a passion that she had in her heart. A desire to continue trying and make the few dollars she could so that her rent may be paid off by the end of the month. And while the weather brought harsh chills through her body, there was nothing better to remedy the feeling with an overpriced cup of coffee. Budgeting wasn’t her strongest suit, but that coffee gave her the strength and motivation to continue.
Despite the environment around her, there was no place like home. And when she does begin to travel around as she hoped to, hopefully, she would miss the nostalgia of this life. A complicated and stressful life, it didn’t help that her comfort came in the form of caffeine.
“Don’t go Melissa… Please…”
The usual thought came, the cry of her mother’s heart being broken yet again. Melissa cringed at the thought, for that same pained voice could be heard over and over every day that passes by. So young, wishing to be independent and capable as a musician rather than relying on her mother for rent.
Christmas was a lovely reminder, for it was the first time there wasn’t at least a couple presents waiting for her in the morning. It was a normal day for her, another one where she had to get up and proceed to work out in the freezing cold. On days such as that, regret would build inside of her. Melissa wished to go back home.
But every time opened the call log on her phone, a list of her mother’s calls would appear. It wasn’t like many others were there to call her with the exception of telemarketers. Right… Melissa rejected her first. No way was she going to take her own medicine, the bitter taste of throwing her pride onto the ground in hopes to return to being a child again. At least, until she was ready.
The coffee in her palm was cold, the freezing weather taking it back to its previous state. Another subconscious sip would return her to reality, making Melissa look at the cup in front of her face with a sigh. There was still half a cup in there, but now it has gone to waste. Now her coffee was good for nothing. Another five dollars that could’ve gone towards food instead.
So many people were around, so little cared. None would know of her loss of money and how much it meant to her. Everyone had their own business, finding those who did care was difficult to find. Some never even knew one who cared for them in the first place. The feeling was so bitter, this cup couldn’t compare.
The motivation to play the viola wasn’t there anymore. Without a full cup of coffee to give her the energy, she was left stranded with forced music in the hopes of obtaining enough tips to earn her living for the day. Some days were like this, but when she imagined a future where her life was like this for the next few years… The phone felt so light in her pocket. Perhaps it would have been best for her to just surrender, take a shot to see what response she could obtain.
But why now? What difference would it make? It’s too late to turn back now.
And just like that, she took a cold sip of her coffee yet again. The phone felt just as heavy in her pocket, the coffee finally tasted bitter on her tongue. Instead, she embraced her bitterness and fear, taking the viola out from its case. The show must go on.
Care to read a few tales? I just happen to have a few!