I was asked to post this story on here. You might have read it before on Tumblr. Yep the same thing.
You step into the familiar coffee shop, take a quick look around, to realize that it's quite crowded, save one corner, the one spot that's always been a favorite of yours, and today noticing that spot is empty feels like a relief and a stab to your heart at the same time. You contemplate on why you made your way here on this sunny afternoon, with nowhere else better to go. You move towards the favored secluded corner of the little shop and sit in the booth, in your spot, once again. You observe the bustle around the shop and smile. It has changed so much over the years, the layout of all the chairs, the paint on the walls, everything save this spot. And you've been grateful, it's here, a constant of sorts. The old owner of the tiny shop realizes its you and gives you a bright smile and a nod, and you know she's gonna bring what you always order. What you've always ordered for roughly 15 years since you first set foot into this shop.
It's the evening after the day your honeymoon ended. You remember Holly and you dragging all the luggage inside, leaving it on the floor downstairs, exhausted after the long flight home. Back to life now, all the excitement, nervousness dying down. Now, back to routine life. The two of you had decided unpacking could be done later, and had flopped on the bed. Staring at the ceiling, you take in a deep breath and close your eyes, taking it all in.
This was it - bliss. With the woman you love by your side, back home, cozy, comfortable. It's all so perfect.
'So, this is it.' she says, and though you aren't actually looking at her, you know she's smiling. Just from the pitch of her voice, the way she's saying it, you know she's grinning that lopsided grin of hers. You know that. You can hear it.
'Yup. The best part of the marriage is over now.' you reply in your usual tone, dripping with sarcasm, and sure enough you find a pillow stuffed into your face.
The owner brings your usual order of coffee to you herself, along side with a plate of a few donuts. She gives you a wink as she places it on your table. You've been her favorite, though you haven't visited here in a long time. She sees you're alone, and doesn't make a comment on it, for which you're grateful. You truly are. You've never cared much for her, but you know she looks out for you - whenever you're in the shop anyway.
You grab the hot mug of coffee with both your hands, cupping the mug tight till you feel the heat almost burning your palms. You don't really care much about the pain - you're too busy staring through the glass walls of the shop, staring at the people outside walking up and down on the street, not so much giving a glance at you. Perhaps if you looked hard enough, she just might turn up in the shop, and join you.
This particular booth, had always been yours. Well, technically, it was Holly's. She was the one who dragged you here, the first time. She had quite literally dragged you by the wrist, introduced you to the kind shop owner, and sat you down at this very booth. And so whenever the two of you did come round to this side of the town, you had always gone in, and sat at the booth that was naturally reserved for them. You remember that one time you had flashed your badge at this freckled teenager who was sitting in the said spot, and he fell over himself trying to get away from you, while Holly spent the rest of the evening doing two things - condemning you for scaring the poor kid, and laughing the teen's look of horror as you had flashed him your badge.
'What did he think he was getting arrested for?' she questions between bouts of laughter. You just shrug, take a sip from your cup of coffee and eye the sandwich she always orders with utter distaste.
'How do you eat that cardboard?' you ask back, wondering how anyone could actually come to this sweet coffee shop and order an ordinary sandwich.
Holly goes on to explain in that verbose way of hers, how she loves the bread here, home-baked, the grain and the special wheat of the bread and so on. As you listen to her ramble about a sandwich, you realize that you're in love with this woman. You're so in love with this woman. The revelation strikes you out of the blue, and for the first time in a long time, it makes sense. It all makes sense. You're just in love with her. You come back to her going on about her special sandwich and smile as you take another sip from your coffee.
The coffee still tastes the same. Same hit of caffeine, same aroma, you truly marvel at how this shop's changed over the years, yet the food tastes the same. It's all the same. Except you've changed. Things have changed, circumstances have changed. Everything that defined who you were the last time you were here, it's all different.
You were a beat cop the last time you were here, now you're a respected and intuitive detective, where only the trickiest of cases were brought to your notice. You were happy then, blissfully happy, now - not so much. You had a ring on your hand the last time, now – a band of tender flesh where your ring used to be. You still have the memories though.
Why are the memories sweeter when you look back on them.
You notice the date, and sigh. It's been 5 years, 5 years since the two of you signed those divorce papers.
It's been 3 years since you last saw her.
It's been 3 seconds since you last thought of her.