The last sip of coffee.

Blank. She sat in front of her blank typewriter. Unable to write. Words fluttered and strayed to and fro in her introspective mind. Anybody could see her life drained in her eyes. Those hazel hollowed eyes. Her body ached and she battled to be in posture however the body double-crossed her mindset. She had grown weary of her unchanging lifestyle and implored for even a wee bit of afflatus. Her eyes strolled around the surroundings in the enclosed box of a room. Her small but cozy bed was a sordid mess. She only slept on her darling checkered brown blanket. She glanced at the sunbeams that were oozing out of the translucent window curtains. She glimpsed at the kitchen which was seldom used often solely for convenience food. No, she was a fine cook. But was mostly engrossed in reading and writing for books gave a whole new meaning to her life which she neglected and promptly plucked another book from one of her bookshelves. Also, she rarely ate any stodge other than pizza. Cheese – that was repeatedly ordered. Above all, she preferred drinking her favorite beverage and nothing else. Precisely, coffee is what she needed evermore. She blinked while taking a swig of coffee and staring at the apparatus.

She contemplated on why she had chosen this course of life. For the first time she had gone far away from home – family. She was yet, not used to this alteration. She stared at the void cup with disappointment and stood up and tried to make way through the garments on the floor to the kitchen. She refilled her white cup with coffee and recalled the reason she loved it so much. She sat on the only chair in front of the typewriter in her apartment. “Oh.” she realized. It was the coffee. It made her feel better – like upgrading a character in a game to an entirely new level. It was all that mattered in the world. But was it? Was it just the beverage or the recollection of thoughts of that person that embraced? Yes, it was the person. It’s always a person.

She recollected him in her mind’s eye. No, it was as though he was right in front of her. She remembered his sweet yet seductive musky scent. She remembered his gentle yet strong hands. She remembered his tall stature and his broad and firm chest. She remembered his slightly tanned skin and his wide smile that uncovered his dimples. Oh, that dimpled smile. She remembered his raven black hair, not long, not short either as it fell in front of his eyes – his coffee-brown eyes. The only eyes she could stare at eternally and never grow tired. He brewed coffee with those hands and the eyes that gazed at the drink while he brewed it – for her. It was why she held the beverage so dearest to her heart. The times spent with him drinking coffee she treasured so much. The times he spoke of his dreams smiling enthusiastically made his eyes glimmer. She admired him. She had been influenced by his thoughts and actions altogether. She realized her dreams. If it wasn’t for him she would have been lost – astray in a labyrinth.

But when he left, she indeed went astray. She wandered in his reminisces. She rambled through the wilderness clasping all of him, every remembrance – finally reaching the end of it. It was the last piece of his memory. She began to miss everything about him. It did not matter if they were just little things. After all it’s the little things that make one care. She missed his musky scent, his tanned skin, his raven black hair, his tall stature, his broad chest, his dimpled smile and his coffee-brown eyes. Coffee brewed by him. She missed his voice, the voice that called her name when she woke up early morning gifting her with a kiss – but which was fading away from her lingering thoughts and she despised that. He was her utopia, the realm that she lived in, with him together. She missed him. But she had to acquiesce that he had changed her life and that was the significance of him.

Now, she had to not fancy his dreams but live her own. She remembered why she had chosen this lifestyle. Why she had come to a different city and what changed her thoughts. And if ever, she was dazed – she’d drink a cup of coffee and she’d feel alive again. She drank the last sip of coffee and began typing afresh.


4 thoughts on “The last sip of coffee.


Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s