Coffee on a Wednesday

November 11, 2012
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Surrounded by wooden walls, paintings, and people yet they seem to feel like they are alone. A man and a woman sit at a table in a far corner if the small coffee shop. He sits across from her, his posture relaxed and a small smile spread across his face reaches his eyes. She sits across from him; one leg crossed over the other, her coffee in her hands and her eyes sparkle when they meet his. They talk. That’s all they do, talk, but that’s all they need. They understand what real love is, not like others who surround them. Their lips don’t have to be locked together; they don’t need to be locked in each other’s arms because with the way they look at each other it’s enough. His blue eyes meet hers and find her soul. She puts her hand over his and laughs, then just looks into his eyes feeling at home. He is no longer relaxed; his hand is clenched into a fist on his leg under the table. She doesn’t see this but she doesn’t need to to know what is soon to come, his eyes reveal everything. He stands up with a smile, but it’s clear to see he is in great pain. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes and her eyes are now empty. He says goodbye and kisses the top of her head, her hands tremble. He turns around, sighs, ad walks to the door. She is looking across the table at his untouched cup of coffee and hears the ding of the bell that announced his departure. She knows he won’t be coming back.

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