ii. broken spine

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She's there again,

in the corner booth,

in the back of the little café

but her focus has been drawn

away from her steaming mug

of cappuccino.

Her gaze now rests

on the dark haired boy

with the smooth cinnamon

colored skin who just walked in

(clearly a newbee to the little café).

She has never seen

him before yet his

very presence intrigues

and irks her all in

the same breath.

He is quite tall-

too tall really-

he swaggers when

he walks and has

the audacity to order tea!

-chamomile tea-

at a coffee shop.

Though, she begrudgingly

supposes, it isn't actually a sin.

Pausing a moment to sip

her now cold cappuccino

that reminds her too much

of the boy's skin tone

she begins to wonder.

What's a tea enthusiast

doing here in a coffee shop

that only has three teas on the menu:

chamomile, earl gray, and oolong?

Did he get lost

between here and England?

Here's not known for tea,

here's known for trendy clothes,

coffee shops, and a bankrupt

state government.

Tea's for England,

at least, that's what most

Americans tend to believe

about that rainy island

across the sea.

Loud slurping sounds rip

through the quiet café's

atmosphere startling her

out of her wandering thoughts.

Looking up she sees

the cinnamon colored

boy taking large gulps

and slurps of his tea,

oblivious to all the racket

he's been making.

She thinks that

the book he's been

reading has something

to do with his disruptive behavior.

Squinting her eyes

she finds it impossible

to figure out what he has

been reading so fervently.

Because the book's

spine is broken and

is starting to peel,

a well loved book

no doubt.

Suddenly he,

the tea enthusiast,

abruptly gets up and leaves

his tea and un pushed in chair

behind as he rushes out

into the pouring rain.

She's there again,

in the corner booth,

in the back of the little café

but as she occasionally drinks

her now ice cold cappuccino

she can't help but wonder about

the cinnamon colored boy

who left as quickly as he came.

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