“How can we write?”
You just look at me. You let the grind of the coffee mixer reign over our voided silence. Excited chatter circulate around us, leaving trails on our table. My hands hug the coffee mug and I know I have embraced us.
You stand up—your chair scraping against the wooden floor—and I do not close my eyes until I hear the chimes of the café bells, hanging on the door. A tear slips as I close my eyes.
“Your bill.” I hear from the waiter as he places my receipt before me. I take it and feel bumps from the paper, so I flip it around.
Behind the silky paper, there is an inscription: “Write yourself, then write me.”
Since then, I know, we will be fine.
WORD COUNT: 132