Unhappiness is never knowing what could have happened. What if? What if I were braver? What if the music was not that distracting? What if it was not closing time yet? What if time could stand still or turn back at my will?
What if the bad memories just faded away and only the version of you and me that remained was the one we mutually liked?
We would become mannequins, empty shells with fake emotions endlessly repeating what the other liked until one of us finally chose to move on. We would be happy for a while but it would be fleeting for both you and I are actually quite fond of change although we do protest it. In our plastic bodies all dressed to please each other, we would be uncomfortable and feel trapped. You would grow weary of my sarcasm and I would learn your mannerisms and mock them- for that is what I do.
You would tell me of adventures I had never been part of and share anecdotes more exciting than are friendly and loving tête a tête. And I would be mad but patiently listen… for our conversations are always one sided. We talk, but we would not absorb. Plastic is that way.
Soon our unhappiness would start to show with forced motions forming jarring memories, and metallic emotions that we would learn to despise. The shiny happy people from technicolor movies who adored polaroids and brunches would realise their lives were like a daily soap on the telly that they escaped from in their perfect little coffee shop. This coffee shop.
This make shift home away from home where company was pleasing but cold and coffee was sweet but expensive.
They would soon despise each other, these fantasy versions of us. Yet you are perfect the way I picture you. I need to broaden my mind you say… You are the loveliest version of yourself when you are with me… Or is that just me projecting on this empty chair.
I am haunted by those memories. This coffee shop brings out the worst in me. I will not come here again I tell myself. I tip, I leave. Its is colder outside. Or maybe its an after effect of an operation. A surgical procedure where memories of you are being taken away. I can never come here again.