I fear the first time I will hold my coffee cup. I know I will lose it all then. The meltdown will happen. For so long, you have been associated with my daily, little pleasures.
I haven’t yet taken you to that nice café with the cute cupcakes. I haven’t yet showed you my favourite spot in London, nor did I sit with you quietly on that bench by the peaceful Thames.
I set my phone on silent mode. For every beep sets my heart ablaze, reminding me that it is not you messaging me. Every sound is a push off a cliff. Let the world be mute and let me be deaf!
It is very cold. Not the usual, compassionate cold. This one is merciless; it shows no signs of warmth in the horizon. It nibbles on my heart and leaves me motionless like a dead, marble statue.
I miss you. I make myself a warm cup of coffee. My fingers remain frozen around the elusive warmth. A few drops of rain fall in the cup and I breathlessly whisper to you: “Good night, sweetheart.”