Two empty cups sit between us. Mine, reminiscent of hot chocolate. Yours, some hipster flavored tea I can’t pronounce. Mine used to be coffee in our old encounters but I gave it up some months ago, a fact you still can’t believe.
And I can’t believe we are here at this point, at the aftermath of our rendezvous. The symbols are clear. Your phone keep ringing, your eyes wander off in the direction of your watch. Your one hand is on your bag; your coat is in your other. You lean to the edge of the seat, that position of anticipated departure. There’s a necessity in your movement, you need to go, and you need to leave. But my desires are in direct conflict.
I want you to stay.
Please don’t go. Please. Take a moment; sit back comfortably like you just were minutes ago. Let’s go back to when you first walked in. When you saw me across the room and waved at me and we ran to each other halfway, embracing and laughing. When we couldn’t even mutter proper greetings because we were too anxious and excited, too relieved knowing we finally were seeing each other.
Can we return to the initial bliss, the nostalgia of beginnings? Because I don’t do well with endings. They are too impeding for me. I prefer the detailed freshness of a new start, the subtle signs of what is yet to come. I like the comfort in knowing there’s more to anticipate, that the current brilliance is not finished just quite yet.
We cannot finish right here, not like this. There’s some quote about leaving while the party is still running, before the dance ends. Defy that fallacy, please for me. Let the party keep running, let the dance ensue. Let’s see how long we can juggle this routine, this rendezvous. Why must we end on good terms? Why can’t we risk it and keep going? Let’s keep going, let’s keep talking. Here in this city, in this rainy city, in this coffee-shop I don’t even know the name of but you suggested, let’s just be. I want you to stay with me. Let’s order another round of an overpriced coffee alternative for me, and another hipster flavored tea for you. Maybe we’ll ramble. Maybe we’ll have said everything we can but silence is still beautiful. Because I have your company, and the presence of a good friend doesn’t just suffice, but fixes whatever may ail you. So grace me with your cure, relieve me of any misery, please just stay.