Today I drank my coffee, bittersweet, with two sachets of sugar, one thin pack of tasteless creamer in a paper cup – to remember the day we shared your latte. The latte you ordered I asked for more sugar and you nodded as you know my all sweet teeth. You came back after a blink and had me sipped, “Good now?” I smiled, “Better. Just like how I love it.” I love it more when I saw the name written on the cup, bold ugly handwriting that once did not irritate me, with my last syllable “ZAN”. For once too, I love my second name.
I knew it was coincidental.
The barista surely had got it wrong.
Today I cried, tears running down disappointedly on both the face buttocks, swollen half-sepet eyes and headache on the fore and back of my head. This happened before, two years, or three years ago. This made me promise, one that I put confidently somewhere, “I will never consider any heartbreak” for the delusional road to happiness. I was ambitious. Truly God tested me with what I worded. I broke the promises I had for myself. I am guilty for this unhappiness.
I knew this was going to happen.
I took the risk nonetheless.
Tonight, I called you again and you put down the phone after three hellos. That did not happen the night before when you did not pick up. At least I got to listen to your voice. Three hellos that you did not call me back.
I have to be fair to myself.
I should know when to stop before I hurt myself worse.