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She felt absolutely crushed, aShe felt absolutely crushed, as if someone had taken a knife to her heart and twitched it around repeatedly. The kiss was nothing like she had imagined it would be, it was short and just.. -wrong-! She touched her lips with her fingertips, trying to remember the feel of his mouth so close to her own. She shivered, and cringed with disgust. Why would he say such a thing and then kiss her, she couldn't make sense of it.
He was angry with her now, she knew it and the feeling of guilt weighed heavy on her. She questioned herself, had she overreacted, was it all just in her head.
She tugged on her sleeves, unable to control the emotions which kept building up inside of her, she could feel the salty taste of tears on her lips, but for once she did not care who noticed.
The words kept repeating within her mind, "I like you too, but I like her more" then the memory of the kiss forced on her lips.
She cried out in anger, her fists slamming down at the ground.
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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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