Treasure Island

Mearon Naman

(July 1st 1990 / Baghdad, Iraq)

Sundress and Coffee


'You smoke now? '
She asked me.
'Just a little.'
I reply.
She smiles.
I used to love her smiles.
She's wearing that sundress that she knows she looks good in.
Perfect lips,
Perfect eyes.
'Do you still keep in touch with anyone back home? '
She asks her questions to pass the time,
To ease through the awkwardness.
I shake my head,
'No.' I add.
She smiles again.
'You look so different.' she tells me.
I guess she's right.
She looks just the same though.
No,
She looks better.
She looks better then I remember.
She looks better then my dreams.
Six years from the first time we met
And she looks so much better.
Our coffee comes,
Both black.
She thanks the waiter,
He smiles back.
I watch her take a few sips.
She smiles again, behind her glass.
'You know, ' she tells me,
'We could have had something, all those years ago,
Back when we first met.'
'We could have? ' I ask her.
'No, ' she giggles a little,
'But it's nice to dream, isn't it? '
She laughs.
She thinks she's being funny.
I try to smile back.
She breaths out,
Satisfied.
Nothing but silence now.
She smiles again,
Pays for our drinks and we leave.
The smell of the coffee she never finished still lingers around me.
I wonder if the cup is still there
So I can trace my fingers on the lines of her lipstick marked on the rim.
'It's nice to dream, isn't it? '
I'll repeat the words in my head
When I try to fall asleep
Reminding myself of her smiles
And her sundress.
'Dreams'
I get back to my apartment and sit quietly on the edge of my bed.
Nothing but silence now.
The world outside seems foreign
Outside my dreams.

Submitted: Friday, August 16, 2013
Edited: Saturday, August 17, 2013

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