What was it about you
and me and all of this that just didn’t work?
Was it something I said?
Was it something you
didn’t?
The pen flew across the paper, scratching in the silence of
the coffee shop, the girlish scrawl filling up the pages. Her tongue played the corners of her lower
lip. Her eyes filled with tears.
Suddenly, the table shook.
“Oh! Excuse me!” But it was too
late. Coffee, light with milk and
stevia, spilled all over the words, black ink running with brown liquid.
She put down the pen and slowly reached for a napkin.
so sad. and I love the beginning. it could be the thing she is writing, or something from the past, or it could refer to the moment when the coffee spilled. love it.
ReplyDeleteSad how one momentary spill obliterates all those pages and words and thoughts.
ReplyDeleteI love the title. As in "no use crying over spilled ... coffee" =)
this is excellent.
ReplyDelete