Morning Cup

3. Blue is my colour, 1537.

I’ve met her five more times and each time was worse than the previous one.

Jesus I know the slightest thing about aircrafts, I could build one with my bare hands, I know the whole thing about mechanics, weather conditions, dogfights tactics, I could land a damn bombardier with a  handkerchief over my eyes, but I’m absolutely unable to speak before her.

The womanizer with successful pickup lines I used to be is definitely dead.

I’ve been nervous, sweaty, and clumsy; I babbled and barely managed to articulate three understandable words when she stood near me.

The second and third time I met her were real, deep and painful disasters.

Both times, she ignored me, like totally. It’s not like she didn’t see me because I’m sure she did.

She even waved at me after I called her, in the street next to the café.

Our faces lightened when our eyes met, and our heartbeats raced up, I could hear her heart thumps inside my chest. Butterflies twirled in my stomach and my mouth got dry, my feet nonetheless moved over to her.

Before I had made one step ahead, her face froze as she noticed a bunch of high ranked guys all in uniforms and medals on the other side of the street.

Her smile faded away, she packed it up along with the sparkles in her eyes and her stroller, turned around and ran away without a single glance at me.

I might have survived if she had noticed me, only few days after this disaster.

She was hastily walking two steps behind a Colonel, who looked busy and grumpy.

I stood straight and saluted the Colonel, like any soldier was compelled to, whenever a high ranked passed.

Then, I greeted her sweetly when she crossed my path, but I got nothing in return.

Absolutely nothing. Not a word, not a smile or a shy glance.

I stopped existing at this very moment. If I didn’t exist in her eyes, I didn’t exist at all.

I bit my lower lip, preventing myself to call her name, due to the presence of the Colonel. Soldiers were supposed to behave before their superiors.

I followed her in the distance to give her another chance to make a sign or a nod at me.

Not a fucking thing.

My feet brought me behind the closed doors of my room where I fisted my hands and punched the wall until my knuckles were scraped and bloodstained, while burning tears fell down my face.

Last time I met her was on Wednesday. The weather was shit but it was mild and I was having a coffee on the terrace all by myself. There was just a couple of clients sitting there, everyone seemed to stay hidden from the pouring drizzle of rain.

There she appeared from the corner of the street, pushing that fucking stroller that seems attached to her.

I stiffened and jumped on my feet, standing almost at attention before her.

“Angie!” That stupid puppy love smirk is back on my face.

She stopped and stared at me like I’m a weirdo.

“Morning Sir. Do I know you?”

Seriously? She forgot about me so quickly I could vanish in a pool of tears.

“Uhm… actually, we did meet a couple of time. Around there.”

“I’m sorry, your face looks familiar but I can’t nail it.” She stated.