The Coffee Shop

A small window was the only thing that made the wall full of photos less sad. She watched her almost empty coffee cup, pondering if she can refill it, or just keep watching for the rest of her time the few drops left.

She hardly notices the surrounding decor and silhouettes frantically coming and going and dancing strange dances. She purposely chose that table near the photo wall, the most secluded table... though weirdly enough it also has the best altogether view of the cafe. It's been ages since she lifted her eyes to look around. Her other senses already offered an overwhelming and unbearable picture of things.

There it is, that never-ending train of thoughts, that constant flow of unspoken words that leaves her flummoxed, not knowing if one second or ten years have passed. Everything melts until it makes sense, and colors scream before painting gruesome portraits.

Her leg muscles suddenly contract, but this time not as a defense. This time it's the signal to leave the cafe, yes, that's the plan. Sip whatever coffee is left in the cup, then get up and leave. Yes, this time I'm sure. Both hands on the coffee cup...This is odd! The coffee cup wouldn't lift from the table.

She shifts her gaze just enough to finally notice the stranger that took a sit at her table and was looking at her with that non-childish childish expression in his eyes that the sweetest dreams are made of.

His hands were holding hers, and kept the coffee cup firmly on the table. She put her forehead on his right shoulder and closed her eyes.

The door of the coffee shop slowly faded away and disappeared.