kolorit

HOW TO RECOVER FROM INVISIBILITY

7:41 PM.
Prado Coffee Shop. Commercial Drive. Sunset. Strong smell of esspresso shots and throbbing sunshine rays through the annoyingly clean windows overlooking busy street. “Beautiful day!”. A petite french girl with an oversized stroke of bright yellow rodhadendrones. Cute loud squeaky frenchly english breaking the calmness... The sounds of piano in the mist of capuccino machine.
Corner one. Girl with a funky hairdo and pink lotus flower tattoo. Papers of boring numbers in front of her. On her high shiny forehead - grim. Numbers don’t add up.
Corner two. Two girls. I guess. The “supersized combo” of american dream. Hertrige Style. “Love comes in many shapes”. At least sex does.
Corner three. Empty. Leftover white paper cup in the middle of the table. Leftover coffee still struggles to smoke out some heat. It says SINGLE americano on the cup. Someone once told me - you never notice single people unless attracted to them. Maybe she/he is still there... in the corner... waiting for the other half to paint her /his colors back to life...
Corner four. Washroom. Tiny pictograms of a girl and a boy. Squeak of the opening doors.

02:32 AM.
Rubbing my feet off the carpet in front of fireplace. My outside is cold. My nostrils still smell of him.

Him. The “single americano”.

Him, who just recovered from invisibility.

“Ooooh, lovely to seee youuuuu” Goldfrapp slowly echoing from the muted iBook speakers. My body slowly falling asleep.