This one is a bit sentimental, but I really missed my friend
Trying to get warm again, I was enjoying the hottest cup of coffee they could possibly offer at this place. I could actually feel this Americano merge with my blood. Preparing to spend some time watching Them carefully I took off my golden scarf. I put it on the table and recollected subconsciously the reason I had bought it. "Have you read Le Petit Prince? He had a scarf of this colour" said He. For several minutes I couldn't take my eyes off of it, staring at the thing blankly. I looked away with the effort. The darkness outside was already oppressing and this fact deprived me of any desire to go out. I felt extremely comfortable here and now sitting next to the window, peering into the blurry silhouettes of people outside, sipping my coffee. He said those who took a delight in the taste of coffee enjoyed sex. Now that I came to think of it I strongly believed in that though I still couldn’t see the connection between the two. Nevertheless, He was right.
He had left for Canada a couple of weeks ago so it was not for nothing that He had collected so many lucky tickets – I wished I could go. I had just a few reasons to long for this country and on the face of it they were quite ridiculous. Canada meant a comfortable place to live in, a nice flag, French with a strange accent and Nickelback, the best rock-band ever. Not that much, huh? However even those points were reasonable enough to make me name this country every time I was asked about my “destinations préférées”. The news of His departure was quite predictable but I certainly hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. Thus we had a fortnight and, fortunately, it turned out to be sufficient for me to find new ways of living. I learned a lot from Him.
I looked out of the window and caught sight of Them. There were plenty of Them that day. They were spinning round and round, taking Their time. They were never in that much of a hurry. I’d been watching Them for quite a long time already, knew all Their habits and could tell what They were doing any moment if asked. They were so different and so unique that looking at Them I felt a kind of a poacher murdering Them with my indiscreet stare. They were certainly not aware of my surveillance of Them.
He had taught me how to approach Them not quite knowing about it Himself. He had turned my slightest interest in Them into a passionate and obsessive idea. I had used to live ignoring Them. But for Him it would still be like this. Now I couldn’t give it up even if I wanted to. I had changed. Things could never be the same again and it was the main reason that kept me here gazing at Them, studying Them, following Them with my eyes.
Having glanced at the watch I put an end to my Americano in one last sweetest gulp, stood up, twisted the golden scarf round my neck the way He did it and went out. I breathed in deeply feeling Their smell. The smell of snowflakes.
