Love in a Coffee Shop

You’re sitting in a coffee shop waiting for her. She’s late. And you don’t know it, but she always is. It isn’t because she’s rude, or self-involved. She wants to know she can drive around the block or catch herself in a dream, and you’ll still be there.

You’re sitting in a coffee shop waiting for her, and you don’t know it but she’s still home, checking her outfit with her shoes. She wants the perfect combination-effortless, but not sloppy. Attractive, but not too sexy.

You’re sitting in a coffee shop waiting for her, and you don’t know how many have come before. She’s sat across from other boys at this table,  sipping black coffee or green tea, carefully choosing which parts of herself to reveal  and which to hide. She’s both hopeful and wary of you. She wants you to make her forget every friend who asked her to be his sometimes girl.

You’re sitting in a coffee shop waiting for her, and when she walks in you’re struck by the intensity in her blue-green eyes. She’s intimidating at first-the way she scans the room for you and doesn’t smile.

You were sitting in a coffee shop waiting for her, while she checked her makeup and checked in with her heart. Meeting you is a bigger risk to her than you know, and when she says hello she plays it cool. She knows she’s giving you the power to shake up her world.

You’re sitting in a coffee shop across from her, and for an hour she’s lost in this magic of first meetings and what could be’s. She decides to forget that every fall and bruised knee starts like this. You watch her breathe as she haltingly closes her eyes, promising herself only this moment and taking it all in.

You’re sitting in a coffee shop talking to her, and it might be the first of a hundred or the last time, but this hour is a piece of her life that will never be the same.

You’re sitting in a coffee shop across from her, and she’s making mental notes of the good and the bad, collecting stories to write and tell her friends. She tells you about her blog, and secretly smiles when you’ve read it. If one day you hurt her,  you’ll be another boy who’s run to Madagascar and a story on her page.

You’re sitting in a coffee shop waiting for her, and she knows how it could end but she doesn’t care.

She’s ready for you.

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