The aroma of roasted coffee and croissants enveloped me when I entered "Macdonals De Caracas", my favorite coffee shop will always be Macdonals coffee and ice cream, it was like the perfect combination and my dad was determined to accompany me in something I wanted to do, although it was strange I know where I was coming from.
I stayed in this place because it has a dreamy aroma, the coffee plus the smell of ice cream and chocolate syrup was incredible, a cozy place with soft music and aroma of freshly brewed coffee with colorful pictures. Upon entering, I was surprised by how few people there were. Only two tables were occupied and the barista, a young woman with dyed green hair, served me with a slightly forced smile.
The place was an oasis of tranquility amidst the bustle of the city of Caracas, with its soft music, dim lighting and cozy tables. I sat down in my usual corner by the wall, as always away from the noise so that my dad could hear me quietly and not have to shout in the middle of the cafeteria, ready to enjoy my morning coffee and immerse myself in the father-daughter chat that I was so terrified of...
While I sipped my black coffee, with my vanilla and chocolate ice cream with delight, a voice tormented my head, it was a voice beyond that of my father scolding me for my sentimental decisions, but I also refuted him on the other side that I am already an adult free to make decisions and I am very sure of the decision I have made this new year.
The voice haunted me as if I was sitting with someone else besides my dad, and honestly I felt cold, my skin was bristling. And the whisper reached my ears with a low tone of voice.
A shiver ran down my spine, my leg and my neck and my survival instinct prompted me to act, as I ran to the bathroom to wash my face to see if I was back to my natural state.
When I came back it was like breaking the silence, my father went on with the rant which was also creepy, but I was there taking a deep breath and listening to him carefully. So much was my auditory sensitivity that I could clearly hear the clicking sounds of people eating, the nasty flies, EVERYTHING .
.
I couldn't just stand there, so I paid for my coffee and ran out of the place, never once looking back.
From that day on, I never went back to "Macdonals de Ccs". It was like reliving the torture of that voice I felt whispering in my ear.
I never knew what it was that I felt in my ear, nor did I hear exact words, it was a very bahito murmur, nor did I understand what it was looking for, but one thing was certain: I had experienced something beyond my comprehension, something that had touched me with nerves and had left me marked forever.
In the end I asked my dad for a picture and the relief was valuable, he will always be by my side but I hope that voice that tormented me throughout the coffee leaves my life.
Photos of my property.
Translation at DeepL free version.
I use Canva Free Version to edit business card for Cafe