A Hot Cup of Black Coffee on a Summer Day

“How do you like your coffee?” he asks.
“Black. No sugar. Hot,” she answers.
“Even in the summer?”
“Yes,” she nods. “Even in the summer.”
He smiles only.

She looks at him, her eyes soft with wonder.
“Why do you paint?” she asks.

He pauses.
“I’ve just painted all my life,” he says quietly. “I think I’m mediocre.”

She leans closer, voice full of knowing.
“You’re not,” she says. “You’re big. I should give you my eyes.”

He smiles.

“What’s your favourite season?” he asks.
“I like Autumn,” she says. “Because it’s always an announcement of letting go of the past to me.

“And what’s your favourite colour?”he asks.
”Yellow” She answers. “I knew it,” he whispers.

A silence, peaceful. Filled with laughter.

Then, he speaks again.
“I like the colour of your nail polish. It looks so beautiful on you.”
“Thank you,” she says.
“Your skin is shining,” he adds. “Yo are shining Queen.”

Laughter.
Then quiet.

“Why did you migrate?” he asks, gently.
“There are many reasons,” she replies. “But maybe… to meet you.”

He looks at her deeply.
“You looked amazing in the green dress,” he says. “Green wears you very well.”

She smiles.
They hold the gaze eye to eye, soul to soul.

Smiling only.