Grey Couches

The rain looked promising enough that it won’t end. Shutting the umbrella and opening my heart to splurge spontaneously, I entered the café.
I hated how tenacious I was to not have forgotten the last time I brought myself with him hand in hand into the same old café. Closing the door behind, my heart yearned to close his chapter behind me too.

As if the melancholic spot of our tête-à-tête wasn’t grim enough, I shuffled inside the cafe making my mind to settle spaciously avoiding the humdrum.
After some quick snap of mental calculations, I passed by a face I recognized and settled to a seat near the thin alignment of well-placed abstract paintings that hung on the wall. I welcomed the change and ordering a cup of latte absorbed the remorse and repercussions happening in my life.
Like a wind finally ceasing to swirl through your memory, travelling further. Unhindered.
People are like that.
They breeze through you imprinting the perks of being part of their life. Only, to leave you behind the whiff of some final aching pieces to smother on.
But what’s done is done. I was through the past relationship with my passive partner in love.
We used to swing by this very cafe plenty of times that I lost count on.
It was our safe place to love silently.
Like always I knew the way he brushed his hair for a while after he sits on our designated corner at the cafe. Our purple place to get some private privilege. The clear coffee scent surrounded our senses and I could probably break it to you the things that were webbing his thoughts when he stayed still, sipping his coffee.
He wore grey when he felt grim and grumpy, white for his larger than life moods, blue for his mystic and jumpy moods, black for his rebellious partying moods. I read him like an open book.
We shared things over a cup of caffeine with a sweet rush. It interlaced our plans to be at places, just like our warm fingers enveloping each other to get hold of the fine brevity of that very moment.
We knew, if we were leaving that place, we’ll be leaving in solemn peace.It was probably the honeymoon phase of exploring oneself in view of each other so that we mince the love residing in us one by one.

But time unclenched the cheeky times in which you witness the real sense of unwrapping true shades of people.
Then came the unstoppable sights of him dressed in grey in cold consecutive days. What made him feel so grim when I kept my bright shades of purple for him to reflect?
I never knew until we had that ‘We need to talk ‘session. The last cup of caffeine we shared sitting on the purple couches of our silent loving wasn’t loud enough to keep us from falling apart. He left me in pigments of grey and that was my favourite shade of clothing from that day on. He knew I was hurting and he did nothing to heal, except walk past the door to ring the bell of his new found love.
Isn’t it easy to give up on people?
One thousand reasons to stay but only one enough to leave.

I held on to that one thousand reasons for many weeks of succulent sobbing but couldn’t find it in my heart to accept the bitter one reason for which he left.
All by himself.
I turned towards our corner of safe purple couches and saw a young group of teenagers having a session of loud loving. Oh, if only they knew how much that place means to me.
I took my phone out and opened the app where I find my recluse. Manga roll. Sweet! The pleasure of reading Japanese comics in the palm of your hand with a shot of heavy caffeine running through your veins accompanied by the sulking mood of getting in terms with your lost love felt liberally lurid.
I suddenly jolted to look past my own session of moment making and caught someone looking towards me from the corner of my eyes, for quite some time.
I deliberately shot one glance at him and it was that guy again.
Dark-eyed, sharp-jawed with muscular shoulders, and he came alone too. I noticed him stabilizing his gaze at me for a few seconds and then the great inventiveness of the first mode of communication happened.
He smiled.
It’s like that moment when you feel your senses startle you to be aware of some new chaos.
Some sights of smiles are striking to see.
He was definitely one of them. Maybe when his eyes met mine he wanted to know the reason behind the hesitation that crafted my lips. We both shifted our stare to resume our coffee cleansing time. I could suddenly recognize this face. During my past series of kindled love meeting with Him, I might have managed to catch hold of this face studying my moments, particularly and precisely me.
I was so busy admiring something that was about to go extinct that I paced out of what awaited me.
Slurping the last shot of coffee into my system, I took my pen out and looked for a tissue lying around. Finding one, I scribbled a simple word and got up to get out.
Purposely passing by where the boy sat, I caught him flexing his stride when I slowly stretched my hand towards him. Placing the tissue aside his mug I walked out only to look back to watch a sly smirk emerging on his face.

Leaving the café I left my broken heart in it too. Maybe the tissue gesture was equal to one of the stupidest dorky move orchestrated by a woman.

But the levitating expression of digging interest as a response using an old school inscription was imparted from my very true within.
Maybe I was about to rekindle my love session right there on that couches, but this time definitely not purple.