I knew this young woman who worked at the coffee place I frequented a lot before I moved here. Her name was Jennifer, and she was sweet. She was a young college student who worked to pay her way through, but I always wondered why she never smiled.
I always started my mornings by going to this expensive shop and buying coffee there. I’d sit in a booth in the corner and would sit there, sipping away the hours as I worked on my next great novel. She would always pass by me and offer cream or sugar, or just a short conversation. Her face was golden and she had the look of someone who was always happy. I always enjoyed meeting her there every weekday morning before my trudge to hell, or what I called work at the time.
One time, I almost got her to smile. When I managed to get her to laugh, it was in short bursts that lasted a few seconds before they faded. I had always pictured her as being a family person, considering the diamond ring on her left hand, that maybe she only smiled around the love of her life. Maybe when she was away from her friends or loved ones she never smiled. I could never tell.
Then I got the call to transfer to a new city. I was elated, a new promotion and my latest book was selling well. That next morning I showed up at the coffee shop and she wasn’t there. When I asked around, I was saddened to find out that she had been killed in an auto accident, along with her then three year old son and her husband. It did answer my question as to why she never smiled, but the knowledge of that didn’t not give me closure.
I hope, in the great beyond, that she is smiling.
This is a work of Fiction. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental.