A Cold Coffee Type of Month
It’s a cold coffee kind of month.
It’s a day when I stare down at a cold liquid in a clear plastic cup and think about that day so long ago when I met a girl near the window.
When we had a conversation while she drew shapes and smiles in the condensation on the window.
When I saw her again, occupying the last booth near the frosted glass.
When I saw her the third time with a blanket around her shoulders and a red beanie covering her short curls.
When I saw her for the unknown time,and this time invited me to share the warmth of the blanket that had quickly become a staple of our friendship.
When we were huddled together listening to Jack Stauber and Cavetown.
A friendship based off of a red blanket, a frosty cold window, and iced coffee.
When I saw her time and time again.
When she called me ????ts? ?af?
And I did my research and her nickname became ?e?µ????t???? f????
When she laughed at my sweet tooth and how much sugar I put into my iced coffee
When I became friends with the girl by the icy window.
When I became more than a friend.
It was a cold coffee kind of month.
But now it is spring.
I see strands of a red blanket in the booth near the window.
The beanie I had received as a gift, customized with ‘ always my ????ts? ?af?’ is chafing at my neck and is uncomfortably warm.
I look down at my coffee, no longer cold, no longer sweet.
And I look out of the window, no longer opaque with ice.
Though it is already spring, I wipe off some residual frost off and watch it melt on my arm.
I look at the window.
Frost melted and gone.
And with it, the girl near the frosted window.
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