lattes with extra-whipped cream & lovin'

Her hair was warm and auburn, but froze his face like Chicago wind chills. Even from behind while she ordered her cinnamon spice tea, he recognized that hair. Yes, he knew those curls instinctively. Three years, four career plans, nine hundred miles, and two failed relationships later he was still connected to that familiar dance of her hair. He knew the curves of her neck, the sway of her hips, and the way she tapped her feet while ordering at Starbucks. He wished more than anything to grab her by the waste and kiss her. Like people did in movies where the violins came in and motion slowed down, sexy-like. He imagined she'd embrace him with open arms, smile and whisper, "about time". That smile- wide from ear to ear and transparently genuine. He remembered how nervous he was on their first date, forehead sweaty, hands shaking, and anxious to know her every thought.

But that was a long, long time ago. Before they split dessert at random restaurants, before he ordered her Chipotle burritos just the way she liked it, before beach trips, and pre-late night movies on the sofa. Essentially, it was before he left her heartbroken, short of breath, and crying in public places. He wrote her texts to apologize, but never pressed "send". He wrote letters (in attempts to seem nostalgically romantic) but never licked the envelope. She was synonymous with simplistic. She told the truth. She wanted to love him. She was "easy going" reincarnated. At the same time, she turned a mirror to himself and displayed his naked self in its entirety - even the things he did not want to see. Ironically enough, he yearned to grab her by the waste and kiss her... but all he could do was stare. Until she turned around and saw him ...

"H...H... hey. What's up?" She said with a mixture of confusion and giddiness. She reached out to hug him with a broad grin and his knees buckled a little. Twenty-four years old and his knees were buckling. he smacked himself over the head... in his mind. He asked her how her schooling was. She talked and he caught a bit of information in between his own fantastical thoughts. She was finally writing for a major magazine. She was working on her second novel and optimistic about "what God had in store". She P A U S E D .

"You know, i cant believe it's been so long. I meant to reach out but ... well, you know. How are you?," she said playing with the zipper on her handbag.

"Well, me? I..." he started.

As he began to speak, her eyes shifted to the door of the quaint little Starbucks. She smiled at the door. It was a heavy but sincere smile - it seemed as if she finally found a place to carry all her love... in that grin. She looked back towards him and said, "Hey, I'd like to meet my fiance..."

From that day forward, "Aint no sunshine when she's gone" seemed to play in his head like a skipping CD... over and over and over and...