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Seaweed coffee

[font=Calibri]Garish
- Is he. The mere, pale hazard light
that shines with neither bulb nor match.
Glaring upon the new born book and spitting in the personal coffee. Straight out

of university he sits flicking away his cigarette
and reading an unknown title. I don't ask
him questions, no one does.“Stay quiet,
he drinks all day.” Coffee shop assistants don't bother him in March.

I sit, with my camera, fiddling with my slides,
hoping not to attract attention. I'm hoping to
catch him, for an art project.
He has the most daunting face, striking jaw line slicing the softness

of his neck and contrasting with the cupid bow
lingering upon his bottom lip. He sighs and drinks
more cold coffee. He doesn't look up.
He never looks up but his fingers master the pages of the book as the clock tick,

tick, ticks by. Those eyes I have never truly seen though
with hair such vivid ebony I'd expect they were grey, or perhaps brown. As I go
to take my A* shot, as I hold my breath and I trust he’s oblivious,
he

looks up.
[Snap.]
Green.
Seaweed green.
[/font]
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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