Comparing Thing To Other Things – A Short Story by @HammerFist3

Lesser_Ury_Dame_im_Café

He sat in a coffee shop, drinking a coffee. The coffee was hot, but not as hot as the fire that burned behind his eyes. He finished the coffee quickly, almost as quickly as his love had left him, but a bit slower than that. He walked outside, noticing the sky blue sky. Her eyes were sky blue, he thought. A dark cloud rolled over, almost as dark as the pain within him. He had to go to work. He hailed a cab, which was yellow. Her hair was blonde, which is almost yellow, he thought to himself.

He arrived at his job, at a tall office building. She was tall, was the first thing that crossed his mind, but not as tall as this building, which is much taller. He walked inside. It was room temperature, just like the rooms they had once spent time in together. He noticed something strange about the building, almost as strange as the way their love had ended. He then realized that it was Saturday, and he should not be at work. This reminded him of all the Saturdays they had once spent together. He left the building, the same way he had once left her life.

Miles away, she stepped from her house into the outside. It was cold, she noticed, cold like her heart ever since he left. There were brown leaves on the ground all around her. His hair was brown, she thought. The sky was sky blue, she observed. My eyes are sky blue, she thought. Many cars passed her on her walk. Almost as many as the thoughts that swirled her brain. She didn’t know where she was going on her walk, much like she no longer knew where her life was going, since he left. She found herself wandering into an old café they had once frequented together. The baked goods were still warm, warm like their life had been together. She sat in a comfortable chair, less comfortable than she had felt in his arms, but still comfortable. Like many chairs, this chair had two arms. He had two arms, she reminisced. She sat eating her baked goods, thinking about how life had been a baked good; it was once warm and delicious, and then it was finished. She felt her life was finished, as finished as the love that they once shared.

He decided not to take another cab back from work, because he was in the mood for a walk. He took a few steps. The pavement was hard, as hard as life had been since he left. He began walking aimlessly, as aimless as his life has been. The sky had darkened, not as dark as his thoughts, but almost as dark as that. Tiring, he noticed an old café they had once frequented together. He stepped inside for another coffee. The coffee was warm this time, instead of hot, and he remembered all the warm memories they had shared together. He sat at a table in the corner, a table as lonely as he had been since he left. He finished his coffee, and wished that he had got to spend more time with it, just like he wished he had spent more time with her. As he stood up to leave, he heard a voice say his name. He whipped his head around, but it was not her. It was the barista telling him he forgot his change. Change, he thought, I wish I could. He left the café. As he stepped onto the street, a bus hit him, more unexpectedly than he had hit her with the news that he was leaving.

She left the café that she was in previously. She noticed something on the ground in the street. It was a flower, growing from a crack in the road. Maybe my heart will be like this flower, she thought, and will start fresh. She took the next bus home.

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