Written by: Suhaas G., 10A

    Tap, Tap, Tap. My fingernails steadily hit the fiberboard tabletop in an increasingly arrhythmic pattern. My busy mind buzzed with anger and the frustratingly calm atmosphere of the café provided no solace.

    The café was in its calmer mood; the customers in a drowsy and meditative state from the soporific effects of the early morning.  The refreshing aroma of freshly ground cocoa and warm milk wafted through the air, stinging my sensitive nostrils. I detested coffee; I silently laughed at the irony.

    I glanced out the window, but barely anyone was  on the bleak, dusty-gray sidewalk outside. It was hard to focus at the window, as the wall constantly screamed their bright, flamboyant colors. A highly fluorescing magenta contrasted with the dark oak floor. The tables were cramped together, and the chairs were uncomfortably spaced. The leather was newly upholstered; it was unnaturally glossy and agleam. The café counter was awkwardly pushed to a corner where it housed a small display of unappetizing confectionary. Behind the counter stood a bored waitress in an undignified manner, transfixed onto the small screen of her phone.

    The noise in the café was subtle: a farrago of hushed murmurs, quiet phone calls and the cadence of frantic typing. A distinct chime filled the suffocatingly cozy air of the café, and my head turned; my annoyance only increasing a tenfold.

    With gritted teeth and a stare of daggers, I was met with the sheepish grin of my ‘esteemed’ guest who was, in fact, incredibly late.

    I’m 15 and I’m from 10A

    I love     writing, reading books, and producing and playing music. I aspire to become a graphic designer (and freelance in music production).

    This article illustrates the complete irritation that one has when the person they’re waiting for is late. It’s been experienced by the best of us, and I decided to take a satirical twist to it.