“Best thing to wake up to!” you had exclaimed many dusks ago of the smell of roasting coffee beans, “what a delight to the senses.”
And every evening, without fail, you would mention how much you loved the fresh cup of coffee I brewed for you. We would sit under a shared blanket, warming up by the fireplace, exchanging jokes and stories of our day. It felt like we could stay like this forever.
Yet, when the snow melted and the flowers started to bloom, you suddenly told me you had always preferred tea. Leaving as quickly as you had come while silly me held onto the belief that we had a connection just because we shared moments. Still, it did not sink in till I walked pass a random cafe one day. There you were with the flavour of the month, sipping on a cup of tea over a plate of melting moments.
Our moment was over. And the flavour of your tea would change with every season.
We were nothing in your game of love.
Photo by MorgueFile