Love, Poetry, & Coffee

~ 52 ~

I don't remember my bed being this small, but why does my feet feels like it's dangling above the ground. If there's indeed a monster under the bed, then it would have pulled me down and devour me under my own bed. Luckily, that didn't happen—yet. Still, my bed feels weird, as if it's not really a bed. My eyelids slowly open up, and I keep on staring at the unfamiliar ceiling. Wait a minute, this ain't my apartment. I quickly glance down to see where I'm lying down, and the memories surge back to me once I notice that I was sleeping on Constance's couch.

I remember saying goodbye to her, and I was about to head to the door, but her sudden heavy grip on my shoulder halted me from opening her door. She had convinced that I should sleep her in case of anything horrible happening to her—like unable to wake up the next day. Well, there aren't quite any convincing words she had thrown at me, she wanted me to stay for her safety, so I stayed for her safety. But I do believe, telling her that I'm just going to ready up our camping materials for today. She agreed with me walking back to my apartment to ready up our camping pack and some other stuff. The time I got back to her apartment, the smell of home-cooked food entered my nostrils. She'd cooked dinner for both of us, and it feels nice to eat some home-cooked meal, but it felt nicer that she'd spent her time to cook for one more person, even though I felt like I didn't deserve to get this much caring. After dinner, I'd tried my best to let her forget about cleaning the dishes and let me do it. I had my way, and she'd told me she'd be going to sleep. All of her energy have fully depleted when she fought the tears from falling to her cheeks the whole day, then cried against my chest in her private apartment for like an hour. Who wouldn't feel exhausted after that?

I slowly push myself to a sitting position while I adjust my eyes. The sensation of waking up from crying last night stings a bit. Where's the bathroom so that I could splash my face awake? I scurry around the room, carefully looking for the bathroom. The last thing I want to find while opening a random door is a peacefully sleeping Constance on a comfortable bed. Luckily, I've found the bathroom first. Turning on the faucet, I cup both my hands in a bowl-like shape under the running water to gather and splash it straight to my face. I repeat that for 5 times until the grogginess is gone from my face. Staring myself in the mirror right above the sink, it feels like I'm staring at someone who's happy instead of someone who had his world crumble down.

Walking out of the bathroom with a refreshed look on my face, I glance around the whole apartment, trying to guess what I should do next. I snatch my phone to check the time, and it seems to be an appropriate time to have coffee and tea, but will Constance be okay that I used her stuff to brew a morning elixir? I'll just replace them once we are in the supermarket again. Did I just say we? That felt weird and relieving at the same time. I scrutinize each cupboard I can find to check if there's any coffee and tea lying around. I was certain that she'll have tea packets lying around, but I was surprised to see some coffee in one of the cupboards.

Still in surprise at my discovery, I grab both coffee and tea packets and settle it on the counter while I try to boil some water. This feels peculiar doing this in someone else's home. I feel like I'm robbing their resources, I really hope Constance won't mind. If she does mind, I could always buy back the things I've used. Right when the kettle starts to release from steam, I turn off the electric kettle and begin to unpack the coffee and tea packets. I prioritize the tea first since that will take a lot of time for the tea bag releases its taste. Opening the chamomile tea box—I have no idea what Constance's preferred tea, so I just trust my own preference for her. I grab one tea bag and place in inside a cup right before I pour the boiling water into the cup. From my stock knowledge about tea, I think they take like 5 minute or more to be fully brewed.

While that tea bag drown in the boiling water, I open up the mocha coffee pocket. It's not my typical coffee in the morning, but it'll do. Coffee is coffee, no need to be picky about it. I dump all of the powder into a mug, and I grab a teaspoon of sugar because I'm not sure if this coffee I'm brewing would have any taste in it. Part of me is wondering why I didn't just run to the Café to order our typical morning beverage instead of making it here. Well, no turning back now, I've already dumped the coffee powder and sugar in the mug. Pouring the boiling water into the mug, I wait for the liquid to fill the medium before stirring the contents with a teaspoon. I take a quick sip of the scorching hot liquid, I immediately regret putting that blazing coffee into my mouth. But at least the taste isn't that bad.