Day One

A luke-warm cup of coffee sat on the end table. The couch, the fireplace, the hoodies and blankets were failed and cluttering sanctuaries from the chill wind that moved dead leaves over the asphalt outside. Far away the sounds of cars have dwindled into an inaudible hum, leaving the air silent except for the scratch of those brittle leaves.

I heard her coming as her feet crushed a few leaves, but the occasional destruction of an autumn leaf is no great occurrence. No, it was the ringing of the door bell that shattered the silence. I approached the door empty-handed, and opened the door. I swung it open in a single motion but only had it open a sliver before I had seen enough to know it was her. She stood a few feet back from the door, off to either side, like she was waiting for someone more significant to walk up the steps behind her. We looked at each other with evasive eyes.

"Come in." My mouth worked without any permission from the rest of me.

"I'll make coffee." I turned around and walked toward the kitchen without bothering to see if she came in or not. She stepped through the rooms like she stilled believed that the floor was lava; touching things as little as possible, stacking her things on a chair so that they'll occupy as little space as possible.

She leaned in a corner of the tiny kitchen opposite me while I mixed the coffee. The cramped space forces her closer to me than we've been in months and it's unclear if the sparks, the heat, would warm hearts or burn down the world. I walk past her into the dining room, set coffee cups on opposite sides of the table, and we sit down.

For far too long no words are exchanged. We sip coffee, sweetness with a bitter aftertaste.

I tentatively extend my hand across the table. I can't take hers in mine, but my finger touches hers, and its as cold as I remember. Wind rushes down the alley behind her and we finally begin to speak. Words are exchanged until the sun has disappeared, but nothing is said, and we leave the cups empty.