Typical

It was the kind of coffee shop where they would play Shins music all day if they could away with it, and most of the time, they did. That was the last thought he had before pulling up his hood and stepping out into the uninviting breezes of the afternoon in Pittsburgh. Even the door resisted, as if to tell him, "You don't wanna go out there." What choice did he have? The tambourines kept ringing in his head and he had to pull away. Nothing mutes The Shins in a coffee shop. The brick work in the sidewalk was uneven from wear and the nature of bricks, he'd supposed. Puddles had grown in the wrong places, showing him sea level. He didn't know where he was going, but he needed a walk. He tried to zipper up his jacket for the hundredth time that day, only to expect a different result than the slipping of the teeth and a pointless contraption. He peeked in the coffee shop window before heading off, seeing that the cashier was changing shifts with a teenaged girl. They were a dichotomy of servers, she bright and happy to work in a place that she'd admired since she first stepped in and the twenty-something man leaning up against the back counter with tired eyes. It was the first that made him smile all day and he hid it to avoid embarrassment as he pushed off his hood to run his skinny fingers through his hair. The light drizzle mixed with whatever cream he put in his hair to make it seem as if he was putting forth some sort of effort to be in style. His shadow on the brick wall spoke otherwise. Spikes in random directions, a lanky figure trying to stand straight up. He didn't know if he was doing that to impress himself or others. Maybe standing tall would make him appear more confident, although this was clearly not the case. He wished he didn't know better so he could stop walking and just stare up into the sky, mouth open, waiting to drown until someone cared enough to bump him back into reality.