While you were out...

Dearest Friend,

I came by to give you a hug, but no one was home. In your absence, the room was hollow and I realized that having the luxury of love just down our dark and ominous corridor is more of a privilege than anyone deserves. Maybe sometimes over looked, and even taken for granted in its accessibility and open arms. A fault easy to fall into when inundated with general happiness and unrestricted love.

I went to your cabinet to feast on some bread and jelly and noticed that there was still coffee in the coffee pot. I had been thirsting for coffee, and was not expecting this lone room to provide it for me. Coffee, a delicacy, a necessity in the first hours of a breaking day. It looked promising, and I crossed my fingers in hopes it was still warm, as if it retaining heat would also mean this room was retaining more of you than I could actually see. I considered momentarily, and gently pushed by fingertip to the glass. It was warm, very warm, and I couldnt help but think it must have been by design of the hands that made the coffee earlier this day. Did you just forget to throw the rest out, or did you leave it there for the remote possibility of consumption by someone else? By me, more specifically. The thought of that prospect alone was enough to make lukewarm coffee engulf my tongue like a warm kiss of relationships long gone. Embellishing on mere possibility was enough to start the day off right.

The room was sweating and sticky in its own heat. I opened your window to let loose the moldy smell and constriction of air. I hoped this was good for you, upon your arrival home, whenever that may be. Because you deserve that comfort.

Thank you for the coffee.