He sipped his coffee. Three milks, two sugars. Letting the liquid linger in his mouth, he savoured its taste. It was sweet in the beginning but as it went down it turned sour.
He set the cup down and stretched back in his seat. There was a soft ding as the coffee shop door opened. A breeze rustled its way into the shop, along with it came the gentle aroma of sunflowers and mild honeydew. He raised his cup and took another sip.
For the past seven months he had made it his ritual to sit here and enjoy a cup of coffee. It had first started with his fiancée but when she left, he decided to make it personal. Sometimes when he closed his eyes he could still hear her laughter, piercing through his morning haze.
It had been three months and forty-seven days since the day she had left him. He was unwilling to change and she was ready to move on with her life. He still remembered waking up to her engagement ring on his bedside table.
He took another sip. It was getting cold.
He set the cup down. What was he doing here, drinking their favorite coffee, sitting in their spot. Why couldn’t he move on?
He stared down at the table and was surprised when he felt tear drops running down his face.
Why couldn’t he tell her how he really felt? Why couldn’t she see he was just as scared as she was?
By now, the coffee was cold. It’s wistful aroma had disappeared and the warmth it was providing his hands was long gone.
He pushed the cup in front of him and wiped the tears from his face. She had given him a chance to explain himself. Unfortunately the words he desired to say weren’t there when he needed. Sorry is never there when you need it.
It was three months and forty-seven days and she was engaged again. He had received the invitation this morning, when he had gotten up to check the mail. It was wrapped in pink envelope with her familiar scrawl on the front. He barely had the strength to open it, let alone read it.
Read it he did however, his eyes absorbed on every word on the page. She had talked about how much he had hurt her. How his constant lies and inability to open up had driven her away.
He didn’t even know when he had finished the letter, or when it dawned on him that there was a wedding invitation attached to the back. All he remembered was grabbing his coat and heading for the coffee shop. Their coffee shop.
His thoughts were disturbed by an “excuse me, mister.”
His head raised slowly.
“Would you like a refill on your coffee?”
The waitress looked at him eagerly.
“Yes, that would be nice,” he replied.
