Cortados and Ceramic Charms
Late afternoon under dim cafe lighting amidst the heaping piles of mismatched pillows found me and my friend spoke in hushed voice. Both of us were regaling each other with our own perspective accounts of what happened the past few hours. There was always an easy flow of exchange between us since we both speak the same language of grievances: heavy longing with nowhere to go, loud noticeable absence, frantic hands gripping for non-existent stability, and the taste of loneliness after a long day. Almost three years of close friendship with constant attached-at-the-hips interactions had us practically agreeing with every single opinion that each other had, especially how concerningly overbearing it was to carry things on your own. We weren't recounting anything gloomy . As a matter of fact, what triggered this interaction was simply something silly. It was earlier in the day, we were carpooling with our colleague to go to a meeting venue. It was our first time being in his car and I ...