I wonder why he does that.
Pour the coffee into a smaller cup,
Into the original,
And right back into the small one.
I'm sure he has no logical reasoning.
I'm sure it has just became a habit of his throughout the years.
But I'd like to think it's something much more than that.
The taller cup is much prettier,
And the outside is warm to the touch,
Soothing on a cold night such as tonight.
Yet he still chooses the small, clear, plastic cup.
The boring and ugly exterior is not pretty to look at,
And a lot harder to hold.
The contents inside are no different either,
I don't see the point.
The man's stubble and thick binder laid out in front of him shows that he works a lot.
His sweater vest and kakis prove that he is very conservative and gentle.
His thin hair and his spotty skin earn my attention,
As I wonder why he does that.
Is it to mix some odd combination of the air with his beverage that in some way makes it taste better?
Is it to capture the allusion of hot and cold somehow?
His glasses perch on the brink of his nose as he takes a swig out of the hideous cup and turns another page of his studies.
I wonder what he is studying.
I'm not attracted, for obvious reasons,
Although, I can't help but sit here and wonder what the not-so-mysterious man is thinking as he pours the coffee into a smaller cup,
Into the original,
And right back into the small one.
