6322. The Cold Coffee

The sadness came and it stayed.

​"Is it so bad?" she asked.

​I had no words to fix it. I did not know what to say to make it better.

​"Do not sit with yourself," she had said once. "Do not get lost in it."

​That was easy to say. But the memory of her was sharp. I remembered her and I remembered the way things used to be between us. I wanted to go back to that time, before it all turned sour.

​I looked at her. I wondered if there was anything left to do. Anything that would make her say yes again.

​"Give me one more chance," I said. "I can make you happy."

​She did not answer. The rain kept falling outside, cold and steady against the glass, and the coffee in our cups grew cold.