COFFEE AND HER

“She was the kind of girl who searched for the things that could never be found” 
~ Anonymous

IT’S BEEN a while since I heard the ceramic clink of her cup; the sound of her heart beating with the whisking sound of her spoon mixing coffee and sugar.

I had the slight impression that the screeching noises were soothing her. Her facial expressions were so serene, yet the lines of a hard life defined her expressive brown eyes, silky black hair and hidden smile.

Her lips tremble while she stirs her coffee, as she continued whisking over and over, holding the cup so tight, like she was trying to find answers by whisking and smelling the coffee.

I remember some nights that she would fall asleep on her chair holding her cup of coffee, and on those nights, I gently touched her hands and place my head on her chest listening to her heart and I could feel the strong and sweet scent of coffee that lingers on her shirt.

Seduced by the aroma of it, my heart stops still, waiting... just the cup of coffee and her.