I Want to Remember For You

I will remember for you so you don't have to...

Monday, July 26, 2010

Black Coffee

The first thing I noticed when I entered his room was my old record collection sitting on the corner shelf, untouched and unmoved.
"You can throw them out." I pointed out to him. "I don't collect them anymore."
"They bring me comfort." He said without looking at me, and quickly picked up some old newspapers and magazines off the couch to make room for me to sit.
"I'll go make us some coffee." He took off his jacket and went into the kitchen.
"I take my coffee with milk and sugar now." I followed him into the kitchen.
After hearing this, he quickly turned around and said, "But you always take your coffee black."
"That was in the past just like those old records." I smiled at him. "I changed!"
He didn't smile back instead he made our coffee in silence.

I left his place shortly after I finished my coffee. Even though I had milk and sugar, the coffee he made still tasted bitter in my mouth. I was able to catch the last train home, and took a seat next to a gentlemen with a cup of coffee.
"Black coffee?" I asked without thinking.
He nodded his head and took a sip from his cup.
"Pretty bitter huh?" I asked again.
He nodded his head again and took another sip.
After that, I sat in silence watching the city go by before me from the window.

I missed my stop but I didn't mind. I got off at the last stop and went to a coffee shop.
"What would you like miss?" The old guy asked me from the counter.
"A medium black coffee please." I replied back.
"That would be 350 yen please." He handed me my coffee and I gave him the money.

Immediately, I took a sip and I could feel the bitterness of the coffee devouring me slowly with great force. The strong coffee scent suppressed me and I found myself drowning in its warmth. I took some time to finish this cup of coffee and afterward I felt satisfied.

I took my cell phone and dialed his number.
"Yuna, what's wrong?" He asked.
"Kenji, I just had a black coffee and I'm satisfied." I said.
He paused.
"I'm sorry." I find myself crying uncontrollably.
"Where are you?" He asked calmly.
"At sakuragi cafe." I answered.
"I will be there shortly." He said gently.

Fifteen mins later, he arrived with his car and drove me back to his place, and I stayed over that night. The next morning he woke up to the sight of me dusting my old record collection. He made breakfast and coffee for me, and this time even though mine was black, it didn't taste bitter at all.

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