A quiet moment shared together - a touch - a look - a remembrance of what love is - RM:


The smell of coffee is heavenly.

the noise of chatter and laughter in the coffee shop is distracting.


We are  sitting in a corner booth, I’m trying to enjoy a pumpkin spice chai latte (yuck! Pumpkin is horrible, but I like the tea?) and you are enjoying a black coffee (you DO know what they say about people who drink black coffee?)

You are in deep conversation with your friends.  I love how animated you get when you are passionate about things you love. Sports, work, life and me.

Curled up in the corner of the booth, my earbuds tucked in listening to my favorite playlist. I ignore your friends, I ignore the conversation,  I am reading a book you bought me, lost in my world.

I feel as if we haven’t been connecting as of late. Perhaps it’s because of the  recent  fights we have had about my reluctance to interact with your friends, to go out. my ability to adapt to your life.

Your hand steals across the seat and covers mine. Your touch brings me out of my reverie. I watch your fingers intertwine with mine.  my heart beats faster. Do you even know what you do to me, I wonder? It’s crazy how your touch can create chaos out of order. your thumb strokes a path from my fingers to my wrist.

I tilt my head back to find you watching me. Your eyes so blue, I feel like I am plunging into the depths of the ocean. In that moment, all I want to do is draw you close to me. To crawl into your lap, and melt into you. To forget everything, the world, our problems and just focus on you and us.

Your mouth curves into a smile, and in the most delicious way, my body reacts. You lean over and pulls the earbuds from my ears. Your mouth hovers over mine,  “You haven’t touched your Pumpkin Latte” you tease.

I grimace “you know I don’t touch that shit”

you burst out laughing, and your lips brush mine. “I’m sorry” you whisper

My lips tingled from the loss of your mouth. “for what?”

“you hated Pumpkin Latte and I bought it anyway. I am sorry I wasn’t more considerate of your anxiety.” your mouth touches mine again. “Will you forgive me?”

“I am a woman with unsophisticated tastes,” I sigh dramatically.”so yes you are forgiven”

You chuckle and rest your forehead against mine. “I love you,” you kiss me once more, “how about another cup of coffee?”

I smile and glance at your friends who are watching with bemused expressions. “one cup of coffee and not that drivel you insist I drink!”

my writing inspiration-

  • the bane of my existence:  Pumpkin flavor coffee anything!!!
  • coffee shops are so cute!
  • how would M deal with my anxiety?




  1. Well done, my friend. I giggled, too. Punkin pie is perfectly yummy….most anything else pumpkin spice flavored is NOT. One of my college friends is so against the stuff, another college friend took pity on him and sent him an ENTIRE box of assorted pumpkin spice flavored items. I was appalled at how much our society deems flavorable with that stuff. In Japan they are even doing pumpkin spice flavored fries (think it is Japan!).

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I is like coffee. I love the scent of coffee. Cannot STAND it. Pumpkin is yummy and baking a pie is incredibly yummy. Yet, so much that isn’t pumpkin pie and tries to be is nasty.


♥writing was all I had, all I’ve ever had, the only currency, the only proof that I was alive. Memory.♥ each of us has a story to tell. Leave your thoughts. Leave your comments.

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