Knitted Jumper
I smiled at him, but inside I felt like a knitted jumper that was coming apart because it hadn't been made properly. He put his hand gently on mine and had a blue sorrow in his eyes, perhaps he had that jumper too?
The music in the background of the coffee shop we were in was a little bit too loud, as if it's sole purpose was to make this moment less sentimental.
Maybe this was not coincidental and they do that to stop people coming here to cry? I thought. As it's not a good look on the owner, and for some reason only known to cliche, people like to have serious talks in these.
My superfluous bubble was interrupted, by what I assumed was him abruptly exiting his chair in an unsubtle fashion. Something that was very much his style.
He seemed to change his mind however, when he sussed I was about to say something.
Probably the first time in a while he was interested in what I was about to say. Shame... on this occasion, I was only thinking.
'Do you...' He coughed mid sentence as if there was a gobstopper in his throat. I nodded as if to say spit it out. 'Nevermind...'
Just in time, a coffee shop apprentice holding a saucer, interrupted the sentence he had already ended. Awkwardly clanging down the crockery in front of us, although I thought she did a good job.
I got sidetracked by the attempt of a heart shape on top of the froth, it looked like a child's drawing but was charming enough.
That seemed to end our lacking conversation for now.
I stared at the table and sipped my coffee carefully. I knew full well he was giving me a familiar glare, one that I had known before, not quite sure where but it had definitely reared its head in the past, perhaps in a park?
I could sense some kind of wisdom was on the horizon. There to ruin my future, but not entirely.
As he squinted off into its familiar middle distance. All I kept thinking was. How we should end this.
It was now just a game of the bravest, of who would go first? I looked out for any sign to interpret.
The heart on my coffee was starting to sink into the liquid, the loose button on my shirt was worse than before and the drizzle outside only added to the pathetic metaphor.
I took this as my cue and spat out the words, 'we should just leave it', is what I heard myself say. I didn't know if he knew what I meant, but I didn't either and the sentence was already floating around in the ether.
I'm a loser with the truth. An excuse, but I can't quite handle it. Like being gifted a present you don't want, by a relative you like and should really see more of.
So a pause.
He said nothing back. We left it at that, until next time...
The music filled our silence, and I had the same feeling inside as the start.
Everything was the same as it was before.
Submitted by Francesca Rainey