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Writer's pictureHelena Barton

Friday Morning at Wendy's

Noise fills the small café. The buzz of the coffee machine, the incessant typing of the student in the corner and the chatter of patrons.

But there is one that sticks out. A dark aura surrounds her as she stares into her now cold coffee mug. Her eyes are vacant and yet, there is a sadness peeking through. Her companions continue to engage in lively conversation, trying not to let her changed demeanour ruin their lunch.

When the trio first walked in, she was the centre of their group. The loudest. The brightest. The most confident. Now, she is a shelf of this former self. And to think, this all came from a simple text message.

Five minutes into their arrival, as they sat in the back corner of the fairy-lit room waiting for their drinks (two coffees and a glass of ice water), she got a text. The distinct ringtone sounded, and she lit up. A warm, loving smile swept across her face. It was him, her not boyfriend-boyfriend as she reminded her friends.

But the joy and excitement quickly turned to sadness as her eyes glazed over with tears that threatened to fall.

'He’s blowing me off. He’s too busy with work,' she tells her friends. They share a knowing look and attempt to surround her with love and comfort. This was not the first time he has done this.

And now, she stares into the empty void of pure black coffee while trying to keep the tears at bay.


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