A cafe story

This post originally appeared on medium.com/@kannarkk before I consolidated my writing here.

I simply can’t work in a cafe. I will do anything but work. I will find a thousand reasons to not work (like writing this post). For a while, I presumed it was the crowd and the accompanying noise — the repeated opening and closing of the doors, people chit-chatting and the random giggle and gossip. I now don’t think so. I am in an almost empty cafe and there’s some light indie music playing. Sunset is far away, but the clouds make the cafe darker than it should be. The wooden tables and the cozy sofas along with the perfect temperature, make the place cozy. There’s hardly any chit-chat unless you count those from behind the counters. And yet… I can’t work.
The neural pathways are all leading to “take a break”, “chill” and “write something”. But I wish it was unfettered. It’s not. It’s all over the place and doesn’t let me fix on anything in particular. It’s a pleasant feeling though. I let go and breathe the fresh coffee brewing close-by. I can sometimes smell the chocolate pastries. I could be wrong because it could be hot chocolate for all I know. But the smell is enticing. I quickly shut down the train of thought, for I just had some coffee. I still can’t work.
The music seems to be have picked up the tempo. There are more people than before. I can’t easily pick up the conversations like before. I see a group of high-school students seated in the central sofa area playing some card game. On the other side, a father is browsing the bookshelf to pick up a children’s book for his child as he waits for his coffee. I can see one of my friends immersed in a book. I try not to disturb her. I still can’t work.
So I gently plead the coffee in my stomach to trickle to my brain quickly. I need the gentle calmness to spread through so that I have one train of thought and not a multitude. I still can’t stop wondering how cozy this coffee shop is. All I can think of is “Can I just stay here, and somehow time stops?” And now, the cafe is silent again. The high-school group has left and all we have is the father reading a story to his little girl, as she sips her hot chocolate. (What else could it be, I wonder) Another fifteen minutes have gone by and I still can’t work.
I now dread the possibility that I actually begin working and my friends say we should leave. That thought totally puts me off any possibility of getting things done. I resign to clear some tabs that have stuck on my browser for eternity and decide to finish off this post. Other twenty-nine drafts wait patiently for a similar day.