drafts & thoughts

warm coffee and golden coins

You always left three coins as a tip in the little compartment behind the menu. They weren't always the same coins, of course. But they always shone the same way. They almost seemed to reflect that glow in your eyes that could only be lit when I filled your cup of tea with coffee because you liked it better that way. I wouldn't argue. And you always looked up at me, as if you were trying to pass that look on to me.

Today you're not here. It's just for today, I repeat myself every day. The thought washes a comforting feeling through me, it whispers in my ear that everything will be okay. I can still see your smile on your seat, the way you fidget with your hands before you put your hand in your pocket and say, muttering to yourself, "It's cold, isn't it?" and it's warm because you keep repeating the same words as the coffee goes down your throat, pretending it heard you and decided to make you feel warmer. Your fingertips rub the inside of your pocket, looking for the coins.But this is just in my dreams. So your coins slipped out of your pocket and fell with a sharp, loud sound that filled my ears for an eternity. I thought I'd feel relief when the sound was over. But you weren't there anymore.