An ideal day in a coffee shop would be a rainy day with numerous people huddled inside, seeking warmth from their only source: the heat of a freshly-brewed cup of coffee. It was almost a picture-perfect moment until I somehow ended up being that particular smudge that amateur left-handed artists make while sketching. That was fine by me really. I found the outside a lot more fascinating as I leaned against the window. All I could see were pavements acting as a looking glass for the skies, perhaps to glorify themselves. The pitter-patter of the raindrops was sliced through with a screech of the entrance door.
Great; the more, the merrier.
The shuffling of a pair of shoes seemed oddly familiar.
The shuffling continued but faded far off into the other end of the café.
My pulse began to stabilise until I could turn my neck to bring her into my view.
There she was, just the way I left her.
The emerald coat she was wearing reminded me of the very moss that grew on the long lost roads of my mind that were once treaded upon when our love was first set alight: eager to flicker and lick the air in all directions.
Normal people give birth to art through the pen or brush here but she, well she had it all in her dainty fingertips. Oh,how she ripped open that sachet of sugar, spilled the fine grains onto the table and pushed them around; it was magnificent.
Her hair. Her curly tresses of ebony just like the sea with tidal waves, dissolving into the midnight sky. I ruminated on my hair: a sable and tranquil pond, longing for the ocean of her hair to drown mine. A simple thought of running my fingers through the waters started to moisten the bronzed bars imprisoning my coffee cup. Before it could break free, I placed it down on the circular table, staring at it with my frozen, florid face.
Wiping my hands with a napkin, I noticed that the coffee had stopped freeing the souls of the crushed coffee beans. The image made me smirk. It’s true: the human mind is indeed twisted.
I took a sip, my lips embraced the surface just like how mine did with hers a long time ago. It was a cold but a unique kind of sweetness, unlike the other times. A gasp absconded inside the liquid.
I clenched my limbs together. The stinging pressure kept building up until my head started to pound. It was unbearable, I couldn’t take it anymore. However, just like the death of a star, it flew outward and a whole pool of ease washed over me. The only place it forgot to wash thoroughly was my mind. It still quivered with a thought that someone must’ve seen the act. A quick skim further on made my eyelids to come to a close.
I don’t what had happened but it was pleasure.
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