Coffee Shop Ballet – A Letter

Hello beautiful,

It’s been a while hasn’t it? How’ve you been? How’s your mother, better? Glad to hear that. And you? Oh. That’s a shame. It’s been an odd few years, I can tell. I can hardly believe it’s been a decade now, more even, since we were there. A coffee, please. Two sugars. No milk.

Do you still remember it, those days? I do. Those folds and fields of green and skies of purest blue, back when we thought that colour was normal and grey was unusual. Back then when a numbness would go noticed since all else we saw was bright multicolour and ultraviolet. Anything was possible so we did nothing; we didn’t know when we’d be allowed to be nothing again.

Your hair is getting grey now. So is your face. Mine too I expect. Ah, this coffee’s too hot – I’ll let it sit. I’m glad you managed to find time to see me now; it seems that there’s never any space between the meaningless continuum of my day by day and night by dreary night life. You miss the stars over the ocean? Me too. I haven’t seen Orion in a while. I guess he must be up there, waving around his sword and playing pirate games, but I find it difficult to look up nowadays. At last, the perfect drinking temperature.

Seeing you now of all times is oh so strange. Like finding a hailstone weeks after the blizzard passed through. My sunburn from your heatwave never really healed, you know? I see you never stopped wearing those earings I gave you either. Funny how life works out; the person who was all too much once is now unavailable when your life becomes all too little.

Would I change it? Yes. In a heartbeat. Every day I turn back the cogs in my watch and slap sense into that self, forcing that frail teenager into action. Could I change it, even had I known? No. That teenager had her reasons, even though this adult has forgotten them. The right people in the right place at the wrong time with the right mindset. We could’ve been stars, you and I. But I know that we would’ve been supernovas. Now look at us, red dwarf stars that we are, too small to give each other a warm welcome on this pale Tuesday afternoon. We’re old in mind and young in soul when – together – we might’ve grown younger through the decades.

Maybe it’s for the best, for I would’ve burnt up a thousand planets for you to notice me. But there’s no point talking in possibles when the cards have already been dealt, played, and stored away, collecting dust on a side cabinet until some curious mind opens the deck to find what secrets once lay therein.

I’ve finished my coffee. Goodbye, old beauty.

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