There it was...
That familier bitter cold on fingertips and to the bones of feet and legs... And everywhere.
"Finally", she gasped as the coffee was put down in the table.
The waitress, rolled her eyes as she walked away.
"So, nothing?", she eyeballed me over the rim of the coffee mug as she took a sip of the hot liquid.
"As if I wasn't expecting it", I held my hand over the top of mug, the steam from the coffee warm.
"It always happens, that intensity, and me with my doubt keeping everything either at arms length, or being suffocating."
She put her coffee down and leant her elbows on the table...crossing her arms, "what do you think you were this time?"
That painful twinge that tugged at my reason and logic and "what the fuck were you thinking"....
"I think it's safe to say that hope, is a very dangerous thing. And I think there's a reason there should be locks on doors, boxes and cages."
She sat back, and a sigh exited her being so heavily.
"Hope is what keeps us going... Hope is what will open us to something great."
The lump in my throat was quickly drowned by the biggest sip of coffee I could manage.
"Hope just leaves us open, and paints the target in its blood red tinge. And seems to cut our reason and logic in half..."
She looked at my phone on the table.
There were no messages waiting, except mine, unanswered... Unread.
"It just means he isn't the right one", her insistence grated me.
"It just proves everything else....", I finished the last of the coffee and waved the waitress back over.
Refill.
From my blog: athouse9.blogspot.com
Image: own
