It’s raining again. I think of you. The fifth time I met you I was drenched in rain and you offered me your black coffee. I hated it, as I sipped it. But I wanted to be cool for you. I would not let you know.
Then, I liked you some, disliked you more.
You must’ve seen the bitter distaste on my face, as you took the cup away. I remember the gesture and the smile that accompanied it. “Not everyone’s cup of coffee”, you said. I took offence. I just needed a reason to be mad at you. I wasn’t ready to fall for you just yet. Outside, the rain still pelted.
He hadn’t come. The one person whose chatter kept us occupied. He would not come in today, you said. I had no reason to stay. “Stay”, you said, “Just for a little while.” But I left.
Even today, rain reminds me of you.
It’s raining again. I think I’m over you some, but I miss you more.
Chapter 2: The Survivor https://harsimrankapoor.wordpress.com/coffee-rain-and-you/the-survivor/