latte

I sat alone in the cafe as I always did. My choice. A token of integrity I told myself since no one who ever sat with me understood and I no longer had the energy to pretend that we spoke the same language. Yes, it was just one night, but it was how they said it, one night, as if in the saying they could slap or shame me into their reality. As if one thousand nights or ten thousand nights could plumb the depth of love deeper. But it didn't. I saw their fate, the facades, living made-to-order lives, timeline like a train, railed, rutted. I saw the token kisses and the perfunctory hugs, two branches of a tree grown apart; and I saw the effort to keep appearances where the only thing that was real came at the bottom of a bottle. So, I sat alone. Drank my coffee. And I remembered what it was like to live, even for just one night, without fetters.