Coffee & Notes

I am writing you this because I was in a coffee shop earlier today and the bitter-sweet taste of the coffee I was drinking reminded me of your lips. And how one sip from the cup transported me back to the time when we were lurking under the big mango tree on an abandoned bridge at 12 midnight being the invincible kids that we are—the hushed whispers, the goosebumps, and the kisses and the kisses and the kisses.

I can still hear your rasp voice saying you just had a cup of coffee before coming to our little rendezvous. And I can still feel the hair on the back of my neck prickling from the heat of your breath against my ear when you whisper the words I love you over and over and over again, like a prayer.

I was brought back out of my sudden recollection of memories when I realized I was unconsciously scribbling your name on the tissue paper. So I decided to write a note to tell you that I remembered you today and hope that you're doing well. There was a bit of coffee stain on the tissue, if you wouldn't mind. And I hope whoever finds this, it makes them remember of a love they once had. And if somehow the Universe plays a joke on us and you'd be the one to find this, I hope you know that it was me, and I hope that you remember.