A sense of familiarity

The roads were perfectly orthogonal. Only a fool could manage to get himself lost. 

She walked briskly, making sharp turns almost mechanically. Amidst the long array of red bricks with cute little must stops, was a little cafe for the connoisseurs. 

Every Saturday, for the past 3 years. Same place, same time. 

French-Italian blend, extra hot, 2 sugars, and just enough room for extra cream. Seasons changed, but not her choice.   

It's good to try something new, she heard this a million times. And yet she resorted to her dark roast.

It's such a cute little cafe, she felt, a recurring thought. 

The cafe was a cozy little place for a book lover and aficionados of the finest beans. 

Between glancing at the continuously changing ambience and reading her latest edition of reader's digest, Riya managed to get some of the coffee onto her off-white pleated shirt. She squirmed her self like an elegant dancer. Frantically, she rubbed a dry tissue against her shirt, and then suddenly giggled as she recollected her friend saying, 'Vodka will wash out stains and memories' . She then gently got rid of the stain as much as she could, and suddenly felt an unfamiliar familiarity. A teasing feeling that she couldn't explain, something beyond her comprehension. Deja Vu.

Riya's mind went into a rummage of thoughts. 

Is it possible that I like coming here because it comforts me with a certain familiarity. Have I left behind me, a small part of myself in the innate objects here and there. The confidence of the tall wooden stools that masks my fears, the solace I take in the sweet warmth of my coffee mug or even the happiness of the changing colors of the decor lights. Like every other day when the barista plays Time of your life, I hum along mindlessly, and the words choose to freeze in the air leaving a trail that I'm now accustomed to. 

A sudden chill ran up Riya's spine. She embraced herself in the black-red zig zag poncho. The chill, the thoughts, the dulling time of the day all made her feel a tad bit uncomfortable. Sometimes in moments like these, you question where your heart is. They say home is where the heart is, but the heart is where familiarity is. Riya felt the cold engulfing her mood. She picked up her book, and her phone suddenly broke the silence, 'Home calling'. A smiled flashed on her face, like a sudden glow of sun from behind the clouds, she picked up and said, "Hi ma, I'm on my way home"