&a bit of prose
the espresso bar
"Two espressos." They're the cheapest thing at this café. I really hate her.
She knows how much I hate espressos. At least she should.
I keep my eye on her, trying to see her flaws and make them larger, make them
huge, blow them out of proportion. I want to hate her, hate her guts, hate
everything about her.
I remember how she failed me that summer, how she left me all alone in Stockholm
because she thought I had met someone, how she started ignoring me and then
loving me and... Oh, we're such a tangled mess. We're tangled, my fingers in
her wild hair and I can smell her perfume, my head resting on her chest.
I want to pull myself away from her, make her into a distant memory, I want to
forget everything that I ever loved about her.
I want to kiss her now. I want to cut her up with a knife. I want to do
everything to her. I hate her and love her. I'm pretty sure she feels the same.
She sits down next to me and hands me the espresso. I wrinkle my nose. "I hate
you."
"I love you," she replies and smiles. Sharp teeth. She can damage me just as
much as I can.
"I know you do." I think we're going to rip each other apart here. I think we're
going to kill each other slowly, our hate and love will suffocate us. And
that's fine with me because her kisses taste so sweet and remind me of winter.
(back.)