Don't change.

It was over the course of months.
Months and months of shy smiles,
hiding behind hands and various other items.
It was a coffee shop...
No, it was a café, a proper café.
One that seemed to spring up
overnight.
She was sent, he thought, to him
though he didn't know why.
But, every week, on a Wednesday
or a Tuesday, there he'd be.
Waiting for her.
She was a Barista,
she served him coffee,
she had an Italian name -
that he went to great lengths to find out.
Eventually by sneaking a look at the staff rota
and guessing right.

Every Tuesday or Wednesday, he'd be there,
with a book, a pen, the coffee she made (and only the ones she made)
and a red packet of cigarettes, lit with a blue lighter.
They always noticed each other
through the glass windows as he walked in,
over other people's coffee cups as she walked by.

A shy smile, a laugh, a couple of words...
But never more than a couple.

It was always the same,
like a routine,
every week.
The same coffee, the same girl,
the same boy, the same cigarettes,
the same book, the same pen,
the same lighter, the same smile,
the same laugh, the same words.

It was like they were stuck in a loop,
one that didn't end; but they were happy.


It did end, one day.


She looked over to him, something was different,
he lit his cigarette, the same cigarette
with matches this time.
Just... One match from a little black match book.
"ZERO-SEVEN"
Was printed on it,
the match heads were pink.
She was puzzled, curiously so.

She walked over to him and smiled,
pretending that everything was the same.
He smiled too, knowing they weren't.
"How come you're using matches?
Where's your old blue lighter?
Did it finally run out of gas?"
She asked; with a polite laugh.

He shook his head.
"I left it at home,
because today's a different day."

She frowned slightly and tilted her head to one side,
her beautiful short dark hair shivered a little,
he'd never seen that before.
Her olive skin turned up a little
at the corner of her mouth.

"What's so different about today?"
She asked, not hiding her curiosity.

He smiled a sad, lonely smile.
"Today is the day I tell you a secret."

She blinked in surprise,
anxious surprise.
She almost knew what he was going to say.

The girl with the olive skin,
she sat down beside him.
She took his hand, his long fingered hand,
the one she always imagined holding a pen
or a cigarette...
And she waited for him.

The sad, lonely smile remained,
because somehow he knew.
He squeezed her hand gently.
"Today is the day I tell you
that I love you."

She smiled a slow smile.
"I love you too."

He came back the next day,
he stood at the counter,
a girl with freckles and ginger hair served him.
"She's gone."
She said, with a sympathetic smile.

"I know."
He said.