The spoon clinked against the glass. It was empty. She thought about ordering another.

It was strange to serve coffee in a glass, she thought. Mugs were supposed to be wide and round, warm and easy to cuff one’s hands around. This glass was long, high and too hot to touch, really, so she was forced to pick it up by the handle.

“Would you like another?” He asked her and she sighed, pretending to think. “Umm.” She smiled.

“What about you?”

“I might.” He replied.

Unsatisfied with his answer she glanced at her watch. They had only been here an hour. “Yes, alright.” She said. He ordered another for both of them.

“So, you mentioned you like to edit videos.” He began. “How’s that going?”

She focused on adding sugar to her coffee.

“Well, it’s a hobby, nothing professional.”

“Still, any projects?”

“I just finished a year’s review. It’s just a collage of videos made last year.”

“I see.” He said. “What is it for?”

“My friends.”

“Right, so you don’t want to send it in anywhere?”

“Why would I? Nobody is interested in my private life.”

“Some people are.”

She stirred her coffee. “Excuse me, I need the loo.”

In the Ladies room she examined herself in the mirror. Was her smile alright? She was having fun. She wasn’t bored.

For a moment she closed her eyes and went through all the things she remembered from her friends’ “What not to do on a Date”-list.

Don’t talk about ex-boyfriends. Don’t talk about having children on your first Date – or in her case, the fact that she wasn’t planning on having any. Show you’re interested in his life and well-being. What else? Surely there had been a dozen more rules to follow.

He was following those rules too, she assumed. He was asking her about her favourite activities and acting like it was a big deal. Editing was something she did in private. She didn’t talk about it.
Despite the coffee she decided she didn’t really need the toilet, but she was hungry. She would eat at home.

“Umm, so how about you?” she asked him, smiled and played with the tip of her spoon. “The only thing you’ve told me was that you play at concerts. Wouldn’t you like to impress me some more?”

He grinned. “Well, I play the guitar. I sing – I’m a tenor and I play the piano too as well as the harmonica. I used to work in a camp for kids, so it helps to play an instrument.”

“Or two.”

He laughed. “Yes, also I’m learning to play the drums, just for fun, of course.”

“You should clone yourself and start a band.”

He laughed again. She smiled.

“I’m considering maybe returning to camp. Kids are great.”

She nodded. “That would be nice.” For him.

Her coffee was almost finished again. She drank some more.


Her friend sat down on the sofa while she gave her a coup – a mug – of coffee. “So?” She asked. “How did it go?”

“It was fine.” She replied and took a sip of her own coffee.

“Will you see him again?”

“Umm, I don’t know.”

“Well, what did he say?”

“He said a lot.”

“No, I mean at the end. Did he kiss you goodbye?”

“He said he had a great time and we hugged.”

Her friend looked disappointed. “A hug?” she repeated. “I didn’t set you up on this Date so you could hug him.”

“I know, but –“

Her friend finished her coffee. “You should call him.”

She nodded. She wouldn’t.


It was night time. Midnight. A film about a French thief had just finished. Now she was watching adverts. Soon they would show a documentary on drugs in the animal world. In her hand she held a mug of hot chocolate. She preferred it. The mug felt warm and soft, as well as her quilt and her open hair. She didn’t like coffee that much anyway.


2 thoughts on “Coffee.

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