The Coffee Went Cold. I Was Already There...
Sitting in the corner, I stare at the cup — the steam long gone, just foam settling up. I don't know what I'm waiting for. I don't know what I need. Just a mind running circles with nowhere to lead. Around me — people laugh, people smile, the café alive in its usual style. Cups arrive, conversations flow, like everyone here has somewhere to go. And maybe they do. Maybe I did too — before something shifted and I lost the clue. The music plays soft, like it's reaching for me. But I sit in the noise and I still can't hear clearly. Should I carry these thoughts? Should I set them down? Should I wait for the answer or let it all drown? My eyes stay fixed on the surface so still — as if it might answer. As if it just will. Some read, some write, some drift and cope, some sip their coffee like it carries hope. And I sit there too… but not quite the same. Holding a cup. And a mind I can't tame. Mayb...
