chaosreactor

I gather lint on her sweater, like dewdrops clustering at the edge of a leaf. I'm told to "Cut it out. You'll ruin it." But I pay her no mind. She knows that I just want her attention. The sidewalk smells like ozone, fresh rain dries on black painted iron fences. The sun returns from its shrouded sill and we sip overpriced coffee in a locally run cafe. I don't have the heart to tell her it tastes like soggy dirt.

She spent a good hour talking about how it was organically grown and that you can really taste the flavor. I can't, not after smoking a half-pack of cigarettes the night before. I had wanted to see her later in the day when I could actually think, but I was goaded into meeting for coffee, the dating equivalent of jousting. Not really combat, but close enough to hurt somebody. The intent wasn't to kill but to gain glory and accolades, curry favor in the court. A touch, salute, repeat.

Coffee dates mean non-committal, a probe into potential compatibility. I wanted to sleep with her, but you can't do that in a broad daylight scenario. That's the sort of intimacy required for lovemaking or serious fucking that could not be achieved in the presence of a solar witness. Hell, I couldn't even bring up the courage to kiss her in public before noon. Still, I held her hand and played with her soft digits before she leaned back a bit as if to repay the gesture.

I light a cigarette and she furls her nose disapprovingly. I place it on her lips for a quick drag which she at first resists. She takes a drag and says, "I should quit." I offer her another but she nods to refuse. I hold it in place and she sucks another down, defeated.