coffee and rain


Saturday morning and the rain is falling as I sit inside with a coffee and stare out of the window. It’s peaceful, wet and green. It’s beautiful. It’s the weekend that you are back from holiday. We haven’t spoken since that Friday I left for Vigo and we messaged for a few minutes until I lost signal and, just like that, you were gone. Three weeks have passed and the strength and certainty I felt that day have attenuated because I don’t know if your holiday will have caused you to forget me or reject me or hate me. Perhaps you will come back with a strengthened resolve to shut me out and focus on what you have. Alternatively, your interest may have grown and you may come back eager to speak to me. I am excited and terrified. I am happy to know that I will get the chance to communicate with you on some level but I am afraid that it may spell the end when you read the letter I left in your drawer and then see an email from me too. Regardless of the outcome, I need to know. I need to speak to you. What I know about you is that you have probably analysed this during the three weeks and brushed it aside as foolish and hopeless. I sincerely hope not, but my fear remains.

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