(Written about two months ago, have finally had the chance to finish this today.)
Macchiato (English): espresso topped with steamed milk
Her cup of macchiato has gone cold. On the table next to hers, 3 different groups of people have come and go; the once pristine table stained with coffee rings. She gazed at the cup of macchiato in front of her, and next at the plate of club sandwich and a cup of americano next to it that she ordered nearly five hours ago.
She took the teaspoon next to her cup, gently stirring her coffee. No one knows how long she has been doing the same thing, over and over again. A few patrons have passed by her table during the last three hours, some checking whether she’s alright or not.
“Still waiting for your friend?”
“Yes.”
Her cellphone buzzed a few times, from the messages that she has been receiving, and one final long buzz from a phone call, eventually joining the list as one of the many phone calls she has ignored since this morning. Yet she did not budge. She took her spoon out of the cup, tapping it gently on the edge of her cup to rid it of the drink before setting it back down.
“I’ve heard the news about the car accident. Is he okay?”
“Is he still in the emergency room? I’d like to visit.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“At what time are you coming to the hospital?”
“Stay strong, dear. I’m sorry for your loss.”
She took the cup of coffee from its saucer, finally taking a sip after the five hours she left it on the table, even though it has gone cold. Her gaze was empty.
ak.da.si 