Eleven years ago, Noah had two problems.
He was hopelessly in love with his best friend, David.
And David had no idea.
Years passed and not a single confession took place. They were supposed to be nothing more than a memory.
Until, one day, their pa...
¡Ay! Esta imagen no sigue nuestras pautas de contenido. Para continuar la publicación, intente quitarla o subir otra.
THE CAFE LOOKS DIFFERENT NOW, but the coffee still tastes the same. I remember it being smaller, barely big enough to accommodate twenty people. Eleven years later, the place is abuzz. The wind chimes ringing one after another as people walk in for their morning dose of caffeine.
I take another sip when a man in glasses walks past me. There is something familiar about him which takes me a second to place it. Eleven years. It has been eleven years since I last saw him. Yet, somehow, he still looks the same—a little older now, with faint lines around his eyes—but something about the way he carries himself feels different.
I would know him anywhere.
He walks up to the counter and orders a coffee. "Vietnamese coffee, please."
I almost choke on mine. He used to hate it.
I remember ordering it every time we came here, just to watch him wrinkle his nose at the bitterness and tell me that coffee shouldn't taste like that. And now, he is ordering the exact thing he once couldn't stand.
I look down at my cup, suddenly aware of how fast my heart is beating. Then, almost immediately, the barista calls out my name.
"Noah!"
I look up.
So does he.
His eyes find mine from across the cafe. For a moment, neither of us moves. Eleven years disappear in the space between us.
