12/3/25 - work, nostalgia, yearning from...uh, a cafe
it's not my first time working at a cafe by any means, but this is the longest time i've done it. been here since a little before 3pm, and now i'm closing in on 6pm real quick. i'm productive, somehow, but also overstimulated? i can't explain it very well, being surrounded by all this noise and all these people, but also somehow in my own corner.
the table isn't too high, somewhere between a bar table and a regular dinner table, and i'm facing a huge ass window with all these people passing by me, behind me, and beside me. everything is somehow so loud, but also quieted by the fact that as much as there are throes of people around me, they also...just don't care about me. we're just all passing each other by. and maybe we'll see each other again, maybe not, but we're all in our own little bubbles somehow still. when i think of third spaces, i dont' think of cafes, but i guess i can kinda see it now why some consider them as such
to be fair, i /am/ inside a mall still, so of course there would be this many people. still! it's not people time yet, so i'll allow myself to react over it!!!! it's still too early to have this many people in here on a workday, i stand by it!!!
and with all these people, especially on this...honestly long ass table, i can't help but people watch between tab switches. play my zoom a little louder in response to the older people shouting on one table, others having a meeting on another. look a little behind me as i stretch my legs, wondering what people are ordering, why there's a line for a whoopie pie that seems to be all the rage right now on local social media. just a little a while ago, a family left after keeping an eye out for all the celebrities that came in and passed by. just now, some aunties passed behind me, skin sagging with age and make up, but smiles alight with christmas plans on their lips, long dresses and low bags matching.
beside me sits a family of two now. i can't tell if it's a dad and his daughter, or a grandfather and his grandchild. the kid seems pretty young, doing schoolwork on a tablet (with those new tablet pens, highlighting in bright yellow, half the doc at that! i love it, we truly live similar lives). she has the latest phone too, it seems, and she said to her guardian she wants to people watch, so she wanted to sit here, one seat away from me. there's irony there somewhere, choosing to sit beside the one working person on this long table, but maybe she's trying to be productive too in her own way. i support that!
her guardian was with her for the first few minutes they sat down, and he was asking her all about her people watching thoughts, her schoolwork. i think he's at the counter right now, or outside, maybe. getting food for sure. he was dressed a little agedly, but clean. long sleeves, plaid. salt and pepper hair, face marred with confusion and overstimulation at the cafe, and his charge's words, stories, and social media feed (whatever she showed, i have no idea. but i /do/ know that's facebook from a mile away). he had a black backpack on him, clearly branded and well-kept, silver tags catching the cafe lights, impeccable stitching something i only wish i can maintain on my own bags. he has money, it's obvious. maybe he came from work, or maybe not. but for sure, he's comfortable, just like the girl he's with.
he reminds me a lot of my dad, and i think if he lived longer, if things were different, my dada would've been the...same, in someway, or similar. dada would be in plaid too, but maybe short sleeved. his hair would've been whiter, and he'd be bigger...unless he got sicker with time, with life. but he'd have the same smile and looks of confusion, just like this older man here. he'd listen to me and ask questions, wondering what the hell i'd be on, what kind of shit is on my social media, but he'd be there for me. he'd go out too, to get his own food and drink, and maybe for me too...or maybe not.
maybe he'd make me do it, but with his money. if he had any.
but even if he didn't, he'd make a way, /find/ a way to, just so he could.
dada wouldn't have the same bag, or maybe he would, but not as pristine. as expensive, maybe, but more aged. cared for just as finely, but not as fresh. it would speak of money all the same, that at some point, he had it too. he had more of it than we could both imagine. maybe he'd be the one with a tablet instead of me or this schoolgirl beside me. the table would be aged as well, maybe older than our phones, but cared for /immaculately/. it'd have its own bag too, if it didn't already, or if it didn't fit his other bags. thin glasses looking worse for wear for sure, hinges fighting for their lives, but gadgets, clothes, shoes, and bags looking their best. probably even better than mine (for sure, better than mine).
i started going to this cafe because he liked it too. it feels fitting to think of him here, and feel him gone, more than usual.
i'm only here because i had a check up earlier, and i had a meeting to catch up on and work to do right after with no time for commuting back home. mami said of all thing sto get checked up on today, it's something related to dada. there's something to laugh about that now, here, and something to hurt about all at once.
the schoolgirl's guardian hasn't come back. they took a selfie earlier together, and he looked so confused. she smiled through it all. she keeps going back and forth with her schoolwork and her social media, her chats. he didn't leave anything beside her, but i know he's coming back. or maybe she's meeting him somewhere later on. this is just another day for them, for me too. it's a small thing, being in a cafe, working here and watching, listening to people live and exist. we're in our own bubbles, and yet, we're together.
this girl is gonna go home later when she meets with her guardian again. it's just gonna be another day for her, for him, and their lives will continue. and so will mine. except i think i'll just be thinking about things more than they would and do, is all. and maybe i'll just put a little more meaning than they would on today, on every day, on every person that passes by, on every table and chair filled and emptied.
the guardian is back now. he's talking about some friends he saw in the mall, and i saw one of them just across me, across this huge ass window. they bought bread. they laughed. the girl is teaching him something on his messaging app now, his long plaid sleeves rolled up. they have matching smart watches, black and white. i think i'm gonna cry.
girls going to or coming from fitnesses classes are passing by now. there's a foreigner who just came in, a regular. he greeted the guard with a handshake. the guardian of the schoolgirl beside me asked if she wants anything. she laughs, and she says yes, and he says to go, he'll watch her things. his sideburns are tinged with white. he's not that young or old, but it's too close, it's so close, and it's close enough. it's more than familiar enough.
there's now 10 minutes to 6pm. the songs in the cafe keep switching from christmas melodies, to old school local music, to current pop. my back hurts, and my eyes are drying up, too much light in them. my chest aches, and i yearn for something i can explain, but i won't ever get anyway, not again.
christmas music is back on, it's annoying. there's a guy across me, outside the window, shifting from his heel to his tippy toes. my ankles feel weird, like there's pins and needles in them, under them, atop them. my keyboard is starting to sound too loud, almost like the kids running by, laughter heard even from afar. these...aches, sensations, won't go away, and neither will time and life and all the words unsaid.
time to go back to work.