Then suddenly, I'm back to when and where our story began. I glance at the counter where the exact date, of when our stars collided under the blue sky, is written on top of the menu.
The familiar aroma envelops my senses for a while before I manage to take in the nostalgia of this four-cornered, tiny but cozy, coffee shop by the sea.
Everything is perfect like how it was that day. The sea shell wind chimes are singing mellow songs with the mild blow of the morning air; the splash of the ramming waves is inviting for an early dip; the bartender is wearing a bright smile from a good night sleep; an old woman, who's sitting close to the door, is sipping her tea while reading a local newspaper; and a young couple on the far corner is eating their breakfast and each other.
I look onto myself and see the 22-year-old me - a wandering soul seeking for solitude and haven.
My left hand is holding a copy of Dirty Pretty Things which would soon become our portkey to somewhere beyond bliss. He would graciously walk towards me and fake a cough to catch my attention. He would tell me that he saw what I'm reading and he got curious because of the title. I would then find out that he also likes flipping pages filled with metaphors and a bit of rhyming words.
My half-full cup of iced cappuccino is lying on top of the shiny wooden table without knowing that a hot black-flavored one would join our company. His presence would be as strong as his coffee and as hot as the rising sun. He would be someone I couldn't resist and I would eventually end up drinking a whole lot of him.
The empty seat across my table is looking out of place before it would become a picture-perfect furniture few minutes from now. He would ignore the empty chairs and insist that the one in front of me seemed too lonely to ignore. We would talk for hours from underrated books, undiscovered beaches, unfamous bands, unflavored beers, to unmade beds.
As every second ticks loudlier, my heart starts to pound harder. I know that any minute from now, he would join the ride of my roller coaster life. Every detail of our first meeting is still vivid like it just happened yesterday and the waves of all our memories after this morning continue to surge through my mind.
After a split second, the sound of the hanging doorbell tells me that he finally enters the place. My eyes follow him as he walks towards the counter and tells the bartender to brew him a black coffee.
There he is - the love of my life, about to meet his lover.
Here I am - his lover, standing up and walking away from a tragic story about to unfold.