she.

She sat alone. Blue sweater, blue eyes, blonde hair. She was focused on the screen, on her work, on whatever distraction was pulling her away from her work in that moment. Her left hand wrapped a coffee mug, her right hand rested lightly on the computer’s keys. Her knees bounced gently to the music that poured in through ear buds. She was alone in a crowd of loners. Working on solo projects, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, screen-to-screen, all utterly separate in purpose and task. She offered the occasional polite smile when her eyes accidentally wondered into the line of vision of another café loner. But, it was obvious to others, whether she meant it or not, that she was to be left alone.

But in truth, she wasn’t here for the coffee. That’s merely the price one pays for afternoon companionship. Her work was quiet, individual, self-governed and stay-at-home but, sometimes she missed the rush of a morning commute, the buzz of office conversation, the bonding over silly, petty, nothingness that exists in every work place. So, on those days, when the freedom of working at home felt oppressive, she came out to sit beside the co-workers she’d never met and settled into a tiny café desk to feel a part of something human.