I Quit Thinking

CHAPTER 4

Carrying It Well

The time I left all the nuggets buried on the trash, I made a promise to myself that I will never crave for it again.

"I'm sorry." He said, joining me on the stairs up to my apartment. It's not his fault. I already cleared myself to him, and he did the same. Both of us didn't expect it to happen, and that explains our emotionally unstable state.

It's not a big of a deal.

I crinkle my nose, half-waving my hand on his side to tell him it's nothing. I sigh, deep.

"Are you sure?" He, whoever he is, placed his hand on my back. Just right on the exact bone where I mostly have the problem with when reaching.

I stop on my feet, processing something. Those are just chickens right. What is this full force drama.

"It's fine. I can have them again tomorrow." I look at him this time and we tried to continue to complete the steps.

"You're the doorless girl." He peeks at my floor, and down the hallway, we could see an apartment which is truly open for the matter. The steps under my feet burns on the fact that does everybody knows how doorless I accidentally become?

I step one more again to reach the end-gripping plaque of the final stage. "How d'you say so?"

He shrugs, pointing at my red pull over shirt under my wash color low jeans. "The palettes." He tells me.

Of course, the palettes. "Do you want to come in?"

"No.."

✷

"I wish I have my espresso machine." A timid laugh left his word. But it seems yes, he then ended up following me inside my flat. "Where did you get it?"

"Nahh, don't ask me. I'm not selling it to you." Half an hour and we're still exhausted at how boring this life is going.

He didn't say more. Instead, he only looked at me and continue what he's doing. I stretched my arms infront of me, watching him menifesting the thing. "Tell me you live in a land full of Arabica-Robusta and you still hadn't got your own coffee machine yet. I'll cry."

His face changed. "Arabica-Robusta?"

"That's this City is all known to. Arabica-Robusta, types of coffee beans. But, Robusta has more fans here. It's strong. More caffeine. Darker."

"What about... Liberica-Excelsa?" He asks, and my vision blurs.

"Are you playing bean-to-bean with me right now.." I scoot myself more on the couch, resting my head on it. "You know much better than I do. Liberica-Excelsa, madnesses. You studied."

"Perhaps it's just the memory that made me ask. I am really new about this beansness. To answer your first guest, you are right. I haven't got any.. machine. Yet." He stares at me for a minute long.. "But I'm not buying yours."

"Clearly because it's not for sale, Sir."

"Paulo." He runs a finger again on my ever life supporting automatic espresso machine. I'm taken aback, stolen by his name. Paulo really suits him. Very.

I made myself comfortable while he's there leaning on my counter. Admiring everything he's seeing. I'm not sure if he's being just everyone who likes to see new things, or someone who adores these kind of things.

"How long you've been staying here in Hana?" Paulo takes his seat on a book chair. Scanning the floor where he leans to reach the novel on the side that was standing on it.