Coffee Shop Goddess

After he rolled off her he thought to himself, “This is not what I thought it would be.”
It was too quiet between them. He could hear her neighbors below yelling at their kids. Even the moments grew uncomfortable and started pressing up against one another like intoxicated fans wobbling at a rock concert.
She finally spoke, “That was…nice.”
Her voice was higher than at the coffee shop. She reminded him of someone he once loved so he hated her.
He started to run from her in his mind. He envisioned hopping out of the bedroom with one pant leg on as she held onto his foot and he dragged her across the hallway floor. Instead, he just rested goofily there and propped his head up on one of her rock-hard pillows. He felt his neck aching and absurdly drove his open hand into the pillow to hurt it back for punishing him all night.
He looked at her from above. Her hair was painted perfectly on the white pillow below and she was fully showing her eyes. He imagined that she was having the same thoughts; that she was running from what she thought he was supposed to be, from her past lovers and old enemies.
And in that moment he had compassion for both of them like an imperfect god might have in finally meeting a kindred spirit after many years alone and he whispered gently, “Can I get you something…a coffee”?



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