• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 01

The Synaesthete’s Diary

Medium latte?
That’s me.

The order is wrong, I will realise later. I am too busy being in love with the table. Morning’s copper aura invades this cafe, and dances upon the polished glass. Shades of emerald dance a waltz before my eyes. Nobody else hears the tune.

Are you not hearing this? I want to shout, but I don’t. I might be amazed, but I’m easily embarrassed. I keep the sight a secret, just for me.

Back to the music that these colours are dancing to. Every plonk of mug on table, every hiss from the steamer summons fresh colours. Icy blues and brave reds join the hall. My heart tells me it is full of these colours. There may not be space for any more.

Hush! I tell it, and drink my drink. If it’s overwhelming, so be it. The dance is not over.

I ignore my sense’s pleas and name-calling. Too much! Greedy! Many more come, but they pass like fog on water.

It’s evening now. There’s no longer light on the table. December blows in pretty young people, and I resent sitting so near the door. The tinkling of glasses casts sparks of silver into the air, the din a background wash of earthy brown.

1

The Synaesthete’s Diary

Excuse me.
I watch the wall, and the shapes that dance on the ancient timbers.
Um, hello?
Each laugh, each surprised—
If you aren’t going to have anything else, then I’m afraid you’ll have to leave. It’s been nearly two hours.
Oh. It is time for home.

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