Coffee Shop

I sat in the seat where I always sit. The one facing the doors.

I watched people all around me, laughing. Their eyes were filled with joy.

The sunlight entered the place through a large glass panel which made the coffee in my cup sparkle.

People walked in and out of the door. Nobody seemed to pay any attention to me.

But I saw them all.

I sat alone at a table with a chair on the other side with no one to sit on.

We always sat in that same place for the last 30 years.

After a certain point, sitting at that table started to become a ritual.

We would wait for that table to get cleared just so that we could sit at it.

Once you get used to a certain way of life, it’s hard to break free from it.

My failing memory made it a point to  constantly remind me of this.

There is no need for me to continue this ritual of ours even though she will never sit opposite to me.

But that faint feeling of hope you have deep down, that all of this is just a dream.

That one day I will wake up from all of this.

I wanted her to walk through those doors like she once did when I sat alone and when she asked if the seat was taken.

Now, I was truly alone and I hoped for her to do the same and start the conversation that I have been yearning to start.

So many things I wanted to talk about. But I always knew what she would say.

So I kept staring at the doors waiting for her to put me out of my misery.


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