Coffeed Silhouettes

Chance.

We met. Rather, collided.
We crashed into each other.
My coffee cup, and all.
Coffee blotches on his white shirt and my light blue T.
Not my best day.

“Are you okay?”
Concern in his voice.

“I’m so sorry!”, looking at his was-white shirt.

“Are you okay?”, he asks again, as if his shirt wasn’t completely ruined by me.

“Yes, are you?”

“Your t-shirt took quite the hit,”

“Your shirt is no excpetion”, I say, pointing out the obvious. Only then, does he notice that his shirt is sticking to his chest. And the liquid is dampening his skin.

“Aah, yes, right!”. We laugh at ourselves.

“Andrew.”

“Michaela. Nice to meet you and sorry about your shirt. I would like to have it dry cleaned, please.”


“You could buy me a cup of coffee instead.” I smile, slightly pushing my luck.

She smiles. It’s a very beautiful, toothy smile. Her innocence is palpable. “Oh? Cause getting coffee on you wasn’t enough?”

“No, turns out I’m insatiable.” We both laugh. And we walk towards a coffee shop across the street.

We order two cappuccinos, and she asks for extra cream. I like that. Extra cream. Oh, I hadn’t mentioned she was black. Her skin, soft, silky looking. Brown. Much like coffee, with cream.

We sat at a table by the wall, under a painting of a giggling child. She looked at it for a moment before sitting down. She smiled. It almost broke her face.

Small talk. A little awkward. We had, after all, just met. And in coffee stained clothes. Good thing I had ditched work for the first time.

I looked at her lips as she chapped them. She had a beautiful mouth. A fuller bottom lip, plush. I stared at them a little too long.

“You’re staring,” she said and she looked around the cafe.

“I’m sorry. You’re just really beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled, shyly. We managed to have a somewhat good conversation after that. We walked out of the cafe. She’d said she had come this way to go sit by the beach. It usually helped when she was having a bad day. I had no better plans (none at all, actually), the beach sounded lovely.

She asked me to say something random from the top of my head.

“Koi no yokan.”

She turned to look at me, with questioning eyes. I realized then that I had blurted out something that I really shouldn’t have. I liked her, yes, but I didn’t want to scare her away.

“Koi no yokan?”

“It’s a Japanese line.”
I stopped in my tracks. She stopped too, and turned to look at me. Her jet black eyes, I looked into them.

“It doesn’t describe love at first sight, but rather at second sight… The moment you realize you’ll fall in love with someone… You’re not in love with them, right that moment but you know falling in love with them is inevitable.”

She seemed to hold her breath. She smiled, then said the Japanese words, “Koi no yokan… I guess that’s what this is…? A flash of tomorrow’s?”

“Yes. Tomorrow’s, starting with tomorrow.”

I held her gaze, with confidence I couldn’t recognize and never knew I had. She smiled, a blush maybe, I’m not too sure. But I know I look forward to learning her face.

“Okay..”, she whispered. I smiled, like a school boy who’d learnt he was taking the prettiest girl in class to the dance.

She turned, and started walking. I moved to her side and walked, as my hand reached to hold hers. Her hand responded, her warm hand smooching mine.

Together, we walked into the sunset. We were on the West Coast, after all, and the sun was starting to swim in the vast ocean we were approaching.

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