The Coffee Shop
Two people—one tall, one short
Two coffees—one decaf, one caffeinated
Two laptops—one PC, one Mac
Two people—one friendship
We sit, facing each other on the couch.
The short hand crosses twelve.
The cat yawns—we do not.
We talk about the future.
Curled up on my couch and watching me—
“I love your apartment,” she says. “It feels safe.”
I am glad.
Who wouldn’t want a home that’s a refuge for a friend?