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THE COFFEE SHOP

I sat idly staring at the vase with the yellow flower on the table. Sipping from the large white cup of coffee, I wondered how long was it going to take before I became the one sitting on the other side of the table.

You know the one who always arrive late in meetings with an aura of complete control. The one who would order from the menu with such sophistication that you wold want to be the waiter to understand the meal. The one whose arrogance is condoned by the society just because paper talks.

I sighed while still staring at the yellow flower. I did not like it but nether did I hate it and so I wondered about it’s journey to the table. “Was it as treacherous as mine?” I thought to myself.

I had been sitting for about half an hour now. The client I was to meet was no where to be seen and I could not dare call him lest he gets upset and cancels the meeting all together.

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This deal was my only life line at the moment. I was so close to the edge and I couldn’t afford to lose the contract. And so I vowed to myself while staring at the yellow flower. I will wait until dusk dawned, I will do whatever it takes to be the person I was meant to be and this would be my first baby step.

The more I thought the more the dream seemed so far away. Here I was at the coffee shop feeling out of my skin, out of my comfort zone where I would curl myself and dream big but dreams are never really built in comfortable places because one only dreams to escape reality.

Looking at the other yellow flowers on other tables, I thought about other people in the coffee shop. Were they in as much turmoil as I was?

One man particularly striked me. He had only ordered a soft drink and he was holding his head deep in thought. “Was it his job, wife or mistress tormenting him?” I wondered.

Loners at coffee shops are usually waiting for someone or ones who just need a time out. I think he was here for a time out and  I also think he doesn’t drink since the bar would be a more conducive environment for such a state of mind.

The client was still no where to be seen. “Why do rich people get to be f***n assholes.” I asked myself. I guess money comes with an asshole tag attached to it and I wondered if my fate would be the same.

Anyway, only time will tell but for now I have to be the humble servant who nods whenever the master speaks and hope that the gods of fortune would blow the winds in my favor and sail my boat to riches beyond my imagination.

Also Read: The Girl That i Used To know

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Posted by Timothy II Aperit

True believer in numbers. Statistics never lie. Bsc Financial Engineering MBA Finance ACCA