Deja vu

Posted by Claudia Moser on 8:47 AM in ,
Joanne was walking slowly, trying to absorb the sounds and the smells. What a refreshing street. So many little shops selling fresh fruit (look at this raspberries, you could paint them!), fresh vegetables and then the cheese. Who could resist this selection of Camembert? And just around a corner, a patisserie, with a young woman selling croissants, baguettes, and other delicious bread. She walked for a while taking in the atmosphere and deciding if she should buy something. She could not resist the temptation, she was not hungry but in the end just a little something.

And then suddenly this strange feeling. She stopped, looked at the small coffee shop on the corner, with metallic tables and chairs, blue napkins, lavender pots and red blinds. She had  to sit, she did not know why.

A young man came, acted surprised and welcome her with a question:

- Black coffee as usual and a red Orangina?

Joanne was startled, how did he know how she likes her coffee. As for the red Orangina, she never tasted it. But since she was so taken by surprise, she said yes.

The road was getting agitated, cars all over, motorcycles parking chaotically for brief shopping, children laughing and enjoying an ice cream, grandmothers packed with bags but with big smiles on their faces anticipating the delicious meals they were to cook.

Slowly sipping her black strong coffee, Joanne closed her eyes and she felt like floating entangled in the smells, the sounds and the warmth of the sun. She knew, she just knew she was there before.

Bravely she asked the young man to come around and spoke briskly:

- Where do you know me from?
- Well Madame, you were one of our usual customers a year ago, you always came at 7am, had a coffee and a red Orangina for breakfast together with a croissant from the patisserie across the street.
- But I never was here before ... she stammered
- Of course you were, and by the way where is Monsieur?
- Which Monsieur?
- Your husband, Madame.

She started running, she did not know if she paid anything, she just left. Her husband ... Her husband ...

Running, mile after mile, she ended up in the hotel where she stayed with her friend. Their holiday in Paris, first after a long stay in the hospital. Why was she in the hospital?

And then the memories came back, the laughter, the love, the life in Paris, the accident, the pain, the loss, the darkness.

And then she ran, she did not want to look back, she could not ...



Wow! This is something different from you today Claudia! A story! Great writing. Hopefully this is going to continue -?

@Diane - yes, I can also write :)) just kidding! It just came this morning, sorry for the sad story!

You write very well my friend!

@Diane - thank you, it means a lot!

Es könnte der Beginn einer großen Story sein...

Lieben Gruß

You got me wanting to read more....Part 2 please :)

Looking forward to Chapter 2!

We definantly need chapter 2

Great writing! I agree; MORE!

What a great sample of your writing; more please!

You do weave a lovely tale! ♥

Dearest Claudia,
Ditto, chapter2 please, my friend♡♡♡
How wonderful to know your great talent!!!
Sending you lots of love and hugs from Japan, xoxo Miyako*

Anonymous says:

This one definitely calls for a sequel!

Very well written. You had me hanging on to every word. I hope we'll see another post with an ending to this story.

OH HOW SAD...loved the picture and would love to sit there and order..experience that cup of coffee with "red orangina" wth? :0) great write

Wonderful, the twist was unexpected. Re reading it now

Claudia, this was an amazing story. I loved the deja vu!! I loved the clever twist at the end. Brilliant job!


Thank you all for your kind support, now I need to think what to write next!

Anonymous says:

Yes, Deja Vu can trigger all sorts of emotions. Very nice story, Claudia! :)

Thank you Linda!

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Thank you for your comments, I appreciate them all!


"A story is not like a road to follow … it's more like a house. You go inside and stay there for a while, wandering back and forth and settling where you like and discovering how the room and corridors relate to each other, how the world outside is altered by being viewed from these windows. And you, the visitor, the reader, are altered as well by being in this enclosed space, whether it is ample and easy or full of crooked turns, or sparsely or opulently furnished. You can go back again and again, and the house, the story, always contains more than you saw the last time. It also has a sturdy sense of itself of being built out of its own necessity, not just to shelter or beguile you."
by Alice Munro

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