Urban Attraction

Cream was making the coffee spin clockwise.
Always clockwise.

The dark, molasses black was churning
into a comfortable brown.
Exactly three sugar packets made it drinkable.

The mug clinked softly against
the well-worn table,
next to the
spoon
lying on the napkin
horizontally adjacent to the edge
of the well-worn table,
with the silver perfect
slash of spoon
vertically across the white.

The used sugar packets
were carefully placed into the empty
cream container,
which sat discreetly in a
delicate pile
at the edge of the table.

Well groomed fingers drummed softly
on a closed beige notebook,
pen untouched.
The coffee spun clockwise.

She saw his hands first.
Out of the corner of her eye,
a streak of scarred skin and calloused tips
clasping a shot of espresso.
Then another.
Knocked back with a gleam in grey eyes
and copper blonde hair.
Careless hair surrounding an unreadable face
etched in stone.

The hands were idly tapping
knees,
bouncing with nervous energy.
With a jump and jolt,
he got up.
Left change on the table,
next to crumpled napkins
and a chewed pen.

She pressed a well-groomed hand
to her stomach.

She came back the next day at the same time.
Always at the same time.
She wrote in her notebook,
and didn't noticed that she was stirring
her coffee counter-clockwise.