Lonely

New York was supposed to jump-start my life. I stalled in Columbus. Yet, somehow, among the millions in New York City, I felt alone; not just alone, lonely.

"Hi," the man at the café counter smiled. "What can I get you?"

Outside, my sunglasses muted the September sun; inside, I used them to hide.

"Medium hot black coffee," I murmured.

"Name?" He asked.

"Bri," I mumbled.

I didn't give him much thought.

The following day, I shuffled, still hiding behind my sunglasses.

"Morning, Bri. Medium hot black coffee?" He smiled at me.

"Ah, yeah... thanks."

Suddenly I felt less alone.