athousandMCwords,

Literary: A Cup of Coffee

10/28/2016 09:55:00 PM Media Center 0 Comments






It is quite a feat to sip a hot cup of coffee alone, when we used to do it together. You loved it sweet and foamy and hated what you tasted of my macchiato. You giggled when I burnt my tongue and I got back at you by wiping the cream off your lips. Then we’d sit beside each other. You’d lean your head against my shoulder, put your hand in mine, and we’d talk about absolutely anything.

It was a rainy afternoon then, same as what the forecast said for today. The cold wind in the coffee shop enveloped me, as I tried to fight it with the heat of a cup of coffee; heat which used to be from your limitless affection, your endless love.

It was a year from this day, if I’m not mistaken, that we drank our last cup together. It was different from those scalding ones we had before. This time, it was iced; cold as how our hearts parted from each other. It was a hot summer night, when I chose to wipe the tears off your face rather than just the sweat from the immense heat. My throat was parched, dry as the drought that I suddenly felt in my heart. My tongue got tired of the taste of macchiato, the same time I got tired of our love for each other.

Maybe the bitterness in the change of blend to a ristretto also changed the way I felt about you. I got my tongue burnt for the last time. I messed up the words I was supposed to tell you, and instead of giving you the usual laugh, all I brought were tears. Nothing happened after that. The coffee that used to be hot and sweet is now cold and bitter.

Now I’m here, sitting alone in one corner of the same café, watching you from across the room as you drink your favorite cup of latte. Quite nostalgic, yet things are different from what they used to be a year ago. A bigger smile is painted on your face, as the guy you were with burnt his tongue and wiped the foam off your lips.

I still remember the last time I got mine burnt, too, then stumbled upon the words I wanted to tell you; I still have them with me though, on the same day, in the same café, but in a different scenario, hoping that I could still tell you what I really meant. If I told you these now, would you still remember the feeling of how we drank our cup of coffee back then?

I took several steps across the room to get to your space. With my palms all sweaty, I opened my mouth. I paused for a moment, “Hi, it's been a while,” with an awkward smile on my face. We had a little chat, yet it didn’t last long. “I’ll leave you two now. I’m really happy for you,” and walked to the counter where, before leaving, I took home a cup of macchiato. I just felt like it; I missed the way it tastes.

Up to the last moment, I didn’t get my words right. I guess it’s how it is supposed to be. But maybe it was the best decision to make. You two looked so happy, happier than we ever were. He loved you more than I did, and my dear, it is something you deserve.

It was still pouring outside and my eyes were wet, perhaps from the rain. My chest was cramping up, maybe from too much caffeine. I wiped my eyes, took a deep breath, and finally started walking away.

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