A Mug Of Strong Coffee

The strong yet familiar smell of coffee hit my nostrils as I walked into the cafe. The wind chimes hummed in a familiar way indicating my arrival, but I knew the one who would've felt my presence wasn't here anymore. They say time healed every wound, but a mug of strong coffee would suffice for me.

I walked to the familiar table, placed my belongings in a familiar manner, and turned around to feel the familiar absence, but instead, you were there.

And the moment our eyes pierced through one another, I knew then and there that a mug of coffee would never suffice.



I didn't let my gaze falter, I didn't let my steps waver, and I didn't let myself break down. "One espresso, please," I ordered staring right into those brown orbs that once used to make my heart leap. Your fingertips brushed against my palm as I took my chance, but this time, it didn't make the butterflies flutter in my stomach. I could feel your breath whisk across my face, but it didn't ignite the familiar warmth in me anymore. I walked back to my table, fully aware of the holes that your stare was burning on my back, but I didn't burn in your flame anymore. Not anymore.



I took out the packet from my bag and stepped in the open air, away from the smell of the coffee, away from the fragrance of your presence. I lit up a cigarette, dragged in a long puff and attempted to smoke away all the remnants of our memories. It's been three months, since that night of proposal that went unanswered and abandoned. It's been three months since you had stopped working in this very cafe where I had once fallen for you. And it's also been three months since you walked away without saying a word, without even glancing back while I tried to gather the pieces of my shattering heart. But, three months were enough to grow acceptance within me, to let the silent and unsaid rejection sink in. Three months were enough to let go of those bleeding pieces of my heart and learn to live without them. And perhaps, three months were enough to let go of you, to let go of the unnamed peace and comfort we had between us, to let go of the love you had awakened in me for you and to let go of the questions that burned my soul after you had left.

But were those three months actually enough? Were those memories and questions actually gone? Did I actually let go of you? But how could I let go of you when I never even had you in the first place?

"So what exactly had I been holding onto all this while? " I let out a silent laugh as I tossed the cigarette into the trashcan and went inside. I grabbed my things, and my espresso from the table, and walked out of the cafe, this time without sparing a last glance in your direction.

 Sometimes, time could never be enough to heal some wounds, but surely enough to bury the memory of it somewhere deep in the mind and to numb the pain, and this time perhaps the strong coffee in my hands would actually suffice.