To You (no, not you)

Citylights twinkled all the way down that road outside the coffee bar we were stuck in that night.

That night.

I was running out of the powder room with mascara streaming down my face,
when you said, “Hey, wanna get some coffee?”
and I said, “No, I just wanna get a cab.”

The next thing I know it’s raining the way it does in our city in September,
we’re stuck at that coffee place down the street everyone goes to when they’re drunk, and you’re reminiscing about our high school days as my ex blows up my phone with apologies that reek of vodka.

Anything to eat ?, the waitress asked you.

Coffee and fries, I replied.

Well, if you’re reading this, I’m usually, like, a lot, more polite.

But I was a little drunk, a little high on the weekend.

A little dazed from talking about all our favourite middle school brawls and confessing to all the crushes we had through those years.
My list had three names on it. Yours had five; and the last one was mine.

I’d have blushed but I just hid behind my cup instead, glimpsing at the way your eyes smiled when you were flustered.

Rain and coffee.
Fries and butterflies.
Late nights slurring into daybreak amnesia.
Early morning flights, last goodbyes.

The rain had stopped pouring at around 4, the sun was rising on the freshly wet airport pavement;

“So, I’ll see you around?”

“You will. Someday.”

The smile reached those tired eyes again.

2 thoughts on “To You (no, not you)

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