“Good morning to you
My energetic colleague
I’ve missed you deeply,” I said as I entered the cafe.
"Why are you talking like that?" replied Ingrid as she arranged the food display. "Sometimes I hate you so much."
As I'm living in haiku
For one magic day."
Ingrid rolled her eyes. "You're just such a wacky guy, aren't you. What will you do next?" she asked.
"That I can't answer
With absolute honesty
Only time will tell," I answered, taken aback by her ruthlessness.
"I'm sorry, man. I'm still a bit drunk. You know that I'm a mean drunk," she said. "I wish I could be a lovable drunk but...I can't. I can't."
"A sentence said twice
Is just a little bit queer
Wouldn't you agree?" I asked mischievously.
"You're a little bit queer," she scathed.
Ingrid and I had been colleagues for less than a month and already our relationship was fractured. When she first started at the cafe I thought that she was the one, that within days we'd have formed a strong bond, working and loving in harmony. On her trial shift, I made my intentions clear. I told her of my desire to seduce her by candlelight. My aggression worked and by midnight we were lovers.
For a week it was perfect. I liked to think of us as a young husband and wife team running our busy little cafe in the heart of Soho, working amongst the employees to save costs on wages, to save money for the baby we were trying for. When the baby was born I would be a cool-dad, dressing our son in tiny versions of my own attire. When he was old enough we'd ride our scooters together around the neighborhood, having races where I'd let him win but not by much. But then she ended it, said it was getting weird, that I was too full-on for her.
"Well, the time has come
For us to open the doors
It is a new day," I said wistfully.
She said nothing to this, just frowned.