Coffeehouse Tears ( Goodbye )

The familiar aroma of coffee fills the air as I enter the not so common area. I feel very bewildered in the labyrinth of hallways searching for my classroom just like I had stepped into corn maze as a child. At last, I locate the secluded room tucked away inside the massive building. Even though the number on the door matches the number on my schedule I am still second guessing if I am in the right place. The door opened up as students poured out. Finally, I took my seat at the back, trying my hardest to sit down unnoticed. My hands were shaking as I wrote the class name at the top of my paper. After what seemed like ages the professor proceeded to

Tears are now sliding down his cheeks. They escape his eyes before he realizes that he's crying. He doesn't want her to leave either. It's not their choice though. It's best for her to leave. She's wanted to leave since elementary school and now she

The sun was kissing the horizon; the day was just beginning, and the sweet sounds of the birds morning sound had awakened me. I was sitting in the same spot I do day after day, happy and well rested. I awoke from my peaceful slumber with a large, clanging chime that echoed off the walls and the roof. The sounds of footsteps stomped down the stairs, and there, as always, was Todd. And as he always does, he shuffled his way to the kitchen and turned on the coffee. Finally, as the aroma of burnt coffee grounds filled the air, a new day had begun.

Books varying from small to large are precisely organized on bookshelves that line the room while various tables and couches are scattered throughout the expansive room. One student is franticly pounding on his keyboard while the girl next to him is contemplating her thoughts, paging through her textbook while listening to her earbuds, eyeing up the Keurig in the corner of the room. Leaned back into this back aching hardwood chair, I observe the two students nearby me; they each have a different expression on their face. One is pleasured by the smell of the coffee that spilled out of the Keurig into her cup, while the other student is fixed on typing his essay, a sweat drop trickling down his face. Gazing at each student my mood changed, I

She sobbed inconsolably when they incapacitated him with a Taser, strapped his hands to his body and then hauled him into a white van. She had a huge, long row with mom after that. Mom shouldn’t have believed of what other people think about him, and the report that he had attacked his classmate until his classmate suffered a concussion should never have led to this. But now that she had already been in the same room with him, she didn’t even have a chance to say a word. Something seemed to burden his mind, making him so distant and far. How can I reach him? Adie thought. How much she wanted to hug him and talked to him about small things, like her feeling.

It is 4 p.m., two hours until the exam but studying must continue. There is screaming coming from the other room, a blasting television nearby, music vibrating the walls of the room; making it extremely hard to concentrate. You have reached your wit’s end and cannot stand all of the distractions anymore. You jump up as your mental temperature begins to boil, and anger flows through your veins, there is no way you will be able to concentrate on studying for the exam. At this point, you decide to venture out of the house to the local coffee shop to finish the study session.

Frantically reaching for her coffee, she slammed the novel down onto the table, frustrated. Someone noticed her irritation from across the coffee shop and casually strolled over. “You seem upset.” Her heartbeat sped up and she jumped a little when she was confronted. She wasn’t anticipating anyone coming over. Drops of coffee splattered

He walked back to his desk muttering about his wasted life. I don’t blame him, his job must really suck. Teaching moody teenagers all day then grading their obviously plagiarised assignments. And getting substandard pay must really suck. Teachers really don’t get enough recognition. Then the bell for next period, which was English with my friend Grace. We got test results back. “How come your grades are always so high?” I said to Grace. “Because I never procrastinate and spend my time wisely. Unlike you...” She squirmed over my desk to see a D. “You really have to get going on the assignment, its due in a week. C’mon. You’ll work with me in the library.” Grace whispered. She has no idea about the struggles I have with doing school work. I couldn’t tell anyone because they would just say don’t be ridiculous, everyone has to do them. In the library, Grace gaped at my assignment. “You didn’t do anything?! Look Johanna, you have get going on your assignment. Or you’ll be panicking on the day before its due.” I already do that. “Don’t worry Grace. I have plenty of time to do this assignment.” I grinned and opened up my history

He had said the words after their tenth date, and she froze. She never had a good relationship, even her parents divorced after faking a relationship for twenty years. She was afraid, and Louis was determined to show her that love was real. No one could really not despise love, but she did. He would shower her with kisses, run hot bathes for her long days, and even cook her meals, but she would never budge. She sobbed to him one night after an argument. Louis was afraid that he would never get anywhere with her, but it wasn’t until that night that he saw how broken she truly was. He held her, and promised that when she was ready to say the words that he would be here. He didn’t know that she would be gone before that

Walter walked with purpose towards the coffee shop on Main. He was heading to order the missus her latte. After every hair appointment she wanted a latte with extra cream and Walter had to get it for her. As he walked along he passed a school. It was 2 o’clock and he heard the loud, obnoixous bell ring as he passed. He hurried along before the kids started filing out the door. He was still thinking about it when he reached the door of the coffee shop. He placed his order and sat down, staring out the window towards the school.

Another way The Java House convinces students at The University of Iowa to get their coffee to go if they aren’t going to study is by appealing to pathos, or emotions. The Java House engages all the senses to promote a studious environment. Immediately entering the coffee shop, one will notice it is dimly lit, with a darker color scheme and warm-toned antique furniture. The color scheme, as well as the lighting, invoke a sense of relaxation into University of Iowa student customers that is perfect for studying and not so much for socialization. Although many students have earbuds or headphones in, low volume, calm music plays throughout the shop. The music volume and genre allow for students to stay on task and not to get distracted easily. The subtle smell of coffee also engulfs the whole shop, creating an even more relaxing atmosphere. Lastly, when looking around one will notice the vast majority of students are doing school work. All the senses work together to communicate that The Java House is a quiet, relaxing environment ideal for studying and productivity, not for friendly get-togethers or dates. Therefore, if that was a student’s intention they should get their coffee and go somewhere else more lively, fun, or casual, so they could better enjoy themselves and make sure not to disturb or distract those working at The Java House.

“You know I always do this. Now be quiet I have to think,” Marc replied trying to lower his voice as he saw a hurt look on Crystal’s face, but it quickly disappeared. Marc had his concentrated face on, so Crystal knew to just drop the subject. She continued to look at her best friend, and wonder how he did not know about her feelings. She knew he was oblivious to some things, but not this bad. As she looked at his forest green eyes and his chestnut, brown hair she knew that she had it bad for him. She had these feelings for him ever since they were fifteen years old, and here they are now at eighteen.

The coffee is always ready though rarely hot, the styrofoam cups are always out and hardly ever stacked. Though Heber has no problem pouring a cup as the teachers at the fridge continue their conversations. “...Like I had time to read that? I put C’s on anything over three pages. Pfff, administration will just pass them anyways.” The other teacher replies. “No, no, I could never just base it off page limits. I make all redos assignments emailed to me, that way I can just copy the first names from the references and search for them in the essay.” A laugh comes from the first teacher as she replies. “Ha, just be thankful we don’t teach math. What a waste, the students never do better the second time.” The two teachers continue to go back and forth, each comment becoming a little more insulting. Heber just continues on with the coffee making, too numbed from all the other times he has heard the conversations to even pay attention, instead just focusing the styrofoam cup he pours the coffee to.

there was something to be said about coffee shops. or, rather, there was something to be said about the way they made taylor feel. the ambiance alone was enough to melt away at the ice in taylor’s life — the ice that’d been frozen for as long as she could remember — and allow her to, for just a moment, feel okay. wholeheartedly, totally okay. not broken. not damaged. not inadequate. totally, wonderfully okay. it was a joke, though: the idea that taylor could believe, even for a split second, that her world was one without mountains and cliffs and dead ends. it didn’t matter, though. it never mattered. and so, per usual, the blonde shrugs it off as she approaches the door to one of her favorite coffee shops. she arrives earlier than ariana, by design. she’s an hour early, because she figures an hour is ample time to gather the persona of the taylor that everyone knows. the taylor she wants to be. she outstretches her right hand to the doorknob, gives it a light twist, and once the bell rings, taylor realizes she’s here. she’s h o m e. it’s not reading, pennsylvania. it’s not nashville, tennessee either — but it’s an escape from reality, and that feels close enough to home. she hasn’t been here in months, but it hasn’t changed — and that’s the warmest feeling taylor’s found in a while. the string lights still dangle from the rafters, the tables are still small, wooden & worn, and acoustic music still trickles from the record player in the back. it’s all so familiar, and it

He banishes these thoughts, and finishes his coffee. It's cold; he hates it could but craves its caffeine, so he chugs the remainder. It was about half a cup. With the coffee finished, he throws away the cup. His first class, English, is nearby, but there is an hour to go before he has to sit in a desk and discuss the way any given words contributes to the theme of any given work. He smiles anyways though.