Broken Teacups

vi. sorrowful remembrance

He wakes up and yawns, running a hand through his hair and deciding it's way too long and badly in need of a trimming.

"Okay, you need a haircut," she smiles at him, her finger tangled in his brown locks.

Eyes wide, he sits up on his bed, shaking his head rapidly. No, no, no. He has to get her out of his head. He taps his head with his knuckles.

"Get her out of there, man," he says to himself. "She was nobody to you. Just a random girl who used you. Just a nobody."

"You're everything to me," he says to her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Everything."

Furious with himself, he throws his blanket off of himself, gets out of bed and storms out of his room, her face never leaving his mind.

*** *** ***

He opens the door to find his best friend standing on his doorstep, a thermos in his hands.

"I made some coffee for you," his friend says. "I figured now that she's gone, you won't...be fully functional."

He shrugs, accepts the thermos and uncaps it, ushering his friend into his house. He takes a sip of the coffee and shuts his eyes in disgust.

It's too bitter.

She never made it bitter. She always put in the right amount of sugar for him.

Ignoring the terrible taste of the coffee, he half-smiles and looks at his friend, who points at the former's mouth.

"You got a coffee mustache," his friend tells him.

She laughs and slides her finger across his upper lip. "You got a coffee mustache!"

Frustrated, he throws the thermos to the floor, where it lands beside the empty beer bottles and remnants of the terrifying previous night.

"Dude!" his friend cries.

Ignoring his friend's indignant remarks, he stuffs his car keys into his pocket and walks out the door.

A mischievous grin is plastered across her face. He narrows his eyes and approaches her cautiously.

"Okay, what have you done this time?" he asks.

"Oh, nothing," she says merrily, with a tad too much innocence lacing her voice.

He runs hid hand across the top shelf in the kitchen and gives her a knowing look as she dangles his car keys in front of his face, a little out of his reach and starts giggling.

"Come on. Give them back," he says with a smile but she ignores him and starts running.

He chases after her and she shrieks, the laughter never leaving her voice.

*** *** ***

"Damn this traffic!" he screams, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"Damn this traffic!" she screams, unbuckling her belt, unrolling the window and sticking half of her body out of it to make rude hand gestures at the cars in front of them as he shakes his head with amusement and pulls on her waist to get her seated again.

*** *** ***

"You seem stressed out."

He looks up to find one of his colleagues standing next to him, looking at the papers on his lap. He shrugs and goes back to filling out client requests.

"What you need is an instant mood-lifter," she tells him, whipping out her phone and typing something on it.

It's an iPhone.