Cupcakes and Tea

[Isaiah Moretti]

Cupcakes and Tea

A Short Story
by
Seriah Belacqua

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Cupcakes Galore.

Muffins Galore.

Chocolate Galore.

Cocktails Galore.

Who comes up with the names of these recipe books? I mean, doesn't the lines of photographs of cupcakes or cocktails on the covers sort of imply that there are predominantly cupcake or cocktail recipes found within? And which unfortunate graphic artists are paid to make such simple treats look so appealing that somebody would be compelled to buy a recipe book called Cupcakes Galore?

I suppose it is easy to catch somebody's attention when there's nothing else interesting to look at, not unless you're interested in which soup the deli was serving, or wanted to know what kind of creamers Starbucks was putting out.

Well, there is - was - one interesting thing that was able to rescue my attentions from the fiendish cupcake cookbook. I don't know who she was, where she came from, or where she was going; I was too shy to ask. There was a suitcase being tugged along behind her, and she was carrying a large travel purse. When she sat down at the table nxt to mine - the only two tavles available beside the only Starbucks in my little town, conveniently located in our local Safeway - she pulled out a brochure and began reading.

Her hair was dark; straight, long, with bangs cut straight across her smooth forward, it shadowed her face when she leaned over the brochure I couldn't make out any words on. The brief glimpse I'd caught of her eyes warned me that they were dark - though of which hue they were darkened, I couldn't say. Her skin shone ivory. I assumed that she was of some sort of Oriental descent; in this small northern town, though, it was entirely possible she had Inuit ancestry.

The suitcase (medium-sized) was a beige-gray colour, her purse a pink-and-black Gucci number; her coat was pale cream, and the modest turtleneck below was dark brown. Her pants (cotton, probably; easiest for traveling in) were black. There was a pair of Dior sunglasses from last fall's aviator line perched atop her head, and a bulky glass bracelet from the same company around her left wrist.

I fancied her as some sort of business owner/operator, traveling back and forth between franchises in order to educate staff and mediate important issues. She didn't order anything from Starbucks, nor did she purchase anything from Safeway; in my mind, I saw a business-class hotel suite stocked with premium roast coffees (regular and decafe) and fruit and cheese baskets everywhere. In my mind, she is sitting one table away from me in order to wait for the hotel to finish cleaning the room, for she'd arrived early on the train.

Yet just as quickly as she'd sunk down into the chair, she abandoned it. She didn't even so much look at me once for the entire time she was seated, not even a friendly smile to acknowledge that I'd offered her a smile. She walked away and I felt a sense of loss. It was almost as if that beautifully distant, mysterious woman and I had shared some sort of deep intimacy, and she was abandoning me in order to return to her husband and children in some far-off land.

I wondered how I would ever recover from the imagined blow she dealt me as I drained my half-cold black tea from the paper Starbucks cup. And there, at the bottom of my cup, I find my solution.

"Drink more Starbucks!" my empty cup screams at me. "And get a pastry too! They're delicious! Pairing a pastry with a beverage will make you feel better about your failed pairing with that woman!"

Now, I might get more tea, but I don't think I'll get a pastry today.

Starbucks now sells cupcakes.

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Author's Note:

Yes, this story is based off facts. I wrote it a few weeks ago after a sleepless night and the thread about tea burns instead of coffee burns reminded me of it. So I dug it out and here it is. It was partly a study on how I find my characters, as almost all my characters are based on people I interact with on a daily basis, and partly a study on how creepy I can really be when I don't get any sleep.

Comments and criticisms are loved and appreciated. Don't be afraid to be mean, either.

~SB~

 

[Stoobs is back]

I liked it, only one or two technical niggles.

Seriah Belacqua

Her hair was dark; straight, long, with bangs cut straight across her smooth forward, it shadowed her face when she leaned over the brochure I couldn't make out any words on.

This paragraph really bothered me, I had to read it over a couple times to make sure I wasn't missing something.
Her hair was dark, okay. Semicolon. Straight, long, with. You could have gotten away with Straight, long and with etc. I think it would have flowed better.

Her smooth forward? Is this meant to be forehead? Just a freudian slip? If not, clarify.

The last sentence here is a bit funny. It might have ran a little better as "It shadowed her face...over the brochure that I couldn't make out any words on."

This emphasises the narrative shift from the hair to the brochure.

As for the rest, my only complaint is the (brackets). These always annoy me in narratives. I try to avoid them myself as much as possible, and find some other way of incorporating aside comments. That's just a personal complaint though, others might not mind it so much.

Overall quite enjoyable. The length of the piece matches the fleeting encounters with oblivious persons that this piece portrays.

Thumbs up.