Two Cups of Coffee

Hi stranger at the next table, we don’t know each other but why should we? Strangers are only strangers until you know their names, so come over and ask my name, and we’re not strangers anymore.

Why do you look so glum anyway? Being alone on the corner table of a quiet coffee shop in the afternoon like this isn’t good for the eyes of others whom you might encounter. The sky is bright and it’s turning orange out there, the air is warm and the traffic is light, but you choose to dwell inside, sitting here while looking outside of the window. I wonder what you are having on your mind now. I wonder if you are aware of me who’s here watching you quietly from the next table, pretending to be busy with my cell phone while I am actually glancing at you.

What are you having there? A cup of coffee on your table? I am having my second cup of coffee too now, alone. How many cups should I have to order before you finally glance back at me? Please look over this way so I will have a chance to smile at you. Should I wait or should I come over there to borrow a lighter? I see you have that box of cigarettes even if the ashtray on your table is clean and empty. Please look over this way so I will have a reason to get to know you.

Hi stranger on the corner, I won’t talk to you until you’ve had your second cup of coffee. Meanwhile, there will always be two cups on my table. Come here and have a seat, then one of them is yours. Or should I come over to your table and bring my two cups of coffee?

February 5, 2012
― Me and My Another Cup of Coffee’s theory