I once wrote about you in my journalism class senior year of high school. I wrote about you and a coffee shop, one we used to frequent often. And as I submitted those words to my teacher, I knew that I would forever think of you every time I stepped foot in a coffee shop. Maybe that’s why I love them so much.
Every coffee shop I have ever been to is somewhat different than the last. Sure, they may sell the same things, but they are never the same. If the walls of a coffee shop could talk, it would be deadly. One would talk about our first date, and all the times we met there on school nights to talk about anything and everything. Another would talk about how you showed up with your friends and met me and mine only to laugh all night.
The next coffee shop would talk about the summer after we broke up, how we awkwardly met there to chat sometimes. Followed by various times when we were home on break. It would talk about how as I went to pay for my coffee, you stopped me and insisted that you buy it. That same coffee shop would talk about how I asked you to get coffee with me before I left the country, but you never showed.
I guess every place would have something different to say. The walls of a coffee shop have heard some of the best news, and definitely some of the most heart-breaking news. They have seen new couples blossom and old ones meet up. They have seen friends talk about life, and friends laughing so hard that tears fall from their eyes.
If the walls of a coffee shop could talk, they would have a lot to say. But they can’t and they never will. So the walls of coffee shops will stay silent but coffee shops in general will always remind me of you.