muttonsmacker

Another wasted coffee.  He can count failures in Equal packets and half-empty creamer cups.    She sees him.  "Here again," she thinks, and for the first time tonight, her lips spread and sink into the dimples of her cheeks without her forcing it.      Be cool.  Act casual.      He swirls the spoon, clinking around the inside of the squat, white mug, and he blows softly into the whirling brown.  This is just for show.  The coffee stopped steaming a hour ago, and now he's just wasting time.      He lifts his mostly full cup of coffee off of the table, and a pale brown ring marks where it sat.      She walks in slow steps up to his t