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That moment.The rain pounded in his ears, louder than it should. It was the only thing he could hear as he stared blankly at the dark place, which was only being lighted by the blue and red of the police sirens. He didn't remember the police coming. He didn't remember the ambulance coming either. As a matter of fact, he could remember nothing.
Nothing but her face.
That heart-shaped face, with thick, chestnut locks framing it, making the pale skin look even paler. Her green eyes, so full of life and excitement, used to twinkle whenever she saw him. They were like an emerald sea, where he could look for hours and hours until he'd drown. And that blushoh God, how he loved that blush. It would start at her cheekbones, travelling up her smooth skin until it'd reach her nose. He could recall caressing the softness of her cheek and teasing her about that adorable blush. Then, she'd smile. That shy smile that could turn even the blackest day into a bright one. The way the edges of her full lips til
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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