Coffee

I’m not very sure what B looks like any more, pictures just make B feel like a distant dream, or a faraway memory, or a
Lol fragment of my imagination. I don’t know what B’s smile looks like, or voice sounds like. I have recordings, and pictures of B, but all of them feel funny, like they weren’t real. Maybe I just downloaded pretty pictures from Tumblr and filled gaps in my memory to make myself feel okay, then why do I miss the hugs from B or W if they were never real.

It was an exhausting but eventful day, I’d usually end up at Koshy’s with someone or the other, to grab a coffee and sober down before heading home. Over the last two months my habit of going to Koshy’s that started ten months ago came to a halt. I’d started to do a lot of new things since ten months ago, but gradually over the last two they’ve all stopped or disappeared.

I’ve been to Koshy’s enough times with a lot of people, some more often than others, but for the first time I’ll be there alone, not waiting for anybody. I walked into the warm, mellow, and not fancy section of Koshy’s Bar and Restaurant; sat down at the two seater table right next to the pillar, I would have to bend a little to see if someone walked in, but I won’t be very visible if someone walks in and looks around. I wanted a coffee and asked for a chicken puff, they don’t usually last till 8:30 pm, but wanted to gamble my chances but I lost.
The waiter in a white uniform served me my coffee and a glass of water five minutes later, with a smile. I’d read over five pages of animal farm by then and even went for pee break.

I made a list of all the people I was here with, while sipping the piping hot coffee.

The first time was with Sid and the M’s, a bazillion times with W & E, met D here for the first time, had lunch with M here, chilled with A, waited for a date here, and once or twice took a break with B. I saw memories at each table flashing by as I looked around, a cold piercing pain dug into my chest. My body was hot from the coffee, and pumped up with caffeine, but the cold grew stronger.

It physically hurts when I remember the laughs, hugs, conversations that happened here, the bonds that were built, all the happy memories were and always will be overwhelming; my eyes burned as I tried hard to hold back the tears. A rupees 99/- bill from here lies in B’s memorabilia box. I wonder sometimes, is it so easy for people to walk away from me? Weren’t they telling me how hard it was to be away from someone else they once or still loved?

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