He rushed up the escalator and entered the cafe hastily. He did a quick scan and found her, facing away from him, on the table at the far end corner, exactly where he expected her to be. He checked his reflection in the mirror, satisfied that there is no indication of any recent excessive cardio movement had been done; he took slow strides towards what was used to be their table.
He ensured that his steps are quiet as he got closer to her.
“Don’t think about it,” she said. He rolled his eyes and plopped down on the seat in front of her. She chuckled and called the waiter. He ordered his usual coffee seeing that she had opted her usual as well.
Then it was silence. She didn’t say a word and had her eyes fixed on a frame. He followed her gaze and snorted, of course she would stare at that scribbles. He remembered how five years ago she wrote him a love story on the napkin and he had forgotten it. The café owner found the napkin and fell in love with it. He had it frame and hung it up right next to the entrance of the toilet. A highly inappropriate place for a love story so she would often joke maybe the story reminds the owner of crap.
“I wonder if the owner would let me have it back,” she said.
“Do you want me to ask?” he offered. “No. It’s stupid,” she replied.
The waiter came and placed his coffee in front of him and a cheesecake for her. She took a bite and pushed the plate towards him. He smiled his crooked smile and took a bite of it.
“You haven’t changed that much. It has been what, 7 months?”
This time it was her that snorted. “You shouldn’t listen to rumors. You know better than that. Besides, I’m still that perfect angel everyone wants me to be,” she said while drawing a halo using her fingers. He quirked an eyebrow at her, she was right, he knew better. “Bullshit,”
“Alright, I might’ve gone a little trip down the dark side. They have divine cookies and I had had my fun. The prodigal daughter hath return,”
“Well you were never the one that follows logic or earthly reasons. Stubborn and rebellious that you are,” he leaned his back on the chair and looked at her. Her hair had grown out from that unfortunate day of breakdown. He remembered how everyone was worried when she went missing for two days, only to come back with a haircut and a tan. He shook his head, trying to get the hollow image of her out of his head. He muttered an observation to her “your hair is longer,”
“No shit Sherlock,” she said. He fiddled with the idea to keep her reeling, just for the heck of it, when he noticed her eyes. Those brown eyes are now muddy, dark and some other adjective that he can’t seem to place to describe it. He realized what he is doing now wrong.
He tried making the conversation light and steering the conversation away from certain subjects. He was glad that she was being herself; making lame jokes and sometimes would space out a little, nothing a kick in the shin won’t fix. He relished every death glare that he earned from each kick; well that part certainly has not change.
An hour past of their caustic comments and witty banter, when his phone started to vibrate like crazy in his jeans pocket.
I need you.
His face turns into a grimace and when he looked at her, he knew that she knew who texted
him. “I’ve got to go,” he simply state. She looked away from him and tugging at the hem of her shirt. She tucked her hair behind her ears and slightly nodded.
“Happy what-it-might’ve-been the seventh year,” she whispered. He heard it anyways. He got up and placed the envelope in front of her. He then left the café. Again, leaving her behind.
PS: I'm trying really hard to finish the story, so pull out that stick up your ass k. Sabar. Relax. Sooner or later I'll finish the damn story. For now enjoy this short one.