University Coffee

Cornered, suffocated (by multiple things), she stands in line for coffee.
I watch her swallow a breath — I know what it smells like.
She wields a precise look,
I am pierced, for she has not noticed that
In the other end of the shop,
There am I.
My mind on one thing, my senses on another,
There I wait
For her to catch up
— But I am not the manager here,
And, damn, there is too much ice in my drink.

Share This Tale

Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin
Share on email

Join Written Tales

Helping connect readers & writers!

Recommended Tales

Relationships

Grieve

How might I mourn the end of this?Funerals are required and tears and painand broken stars, as stories told,are procedures

Read More »

Leave a Comment

Join Written Tales
Helping readers & writers connect!