It was around 3pm when...

... I entered the coffee shop, slightly exhausted from walking around in the scorching heat of the city. After a few seconds of enjoying the cool, air-conditioned air inside, I scanned the coffee shop to see if the person I'm meeting up was there. No signs of the person yet - wait, is that good or bad? Shoving the thoughts away, I decided to find a nice place to sit. Fortunately, the comfy looking chairs were available. I put my backpack down on the other chair and decided to order a cup of coffee.

As usual, I ordered a Colombian medium roast. The subtle nutty tones; the fragrant, enticing aroma; the faint sweetness that swirls in your mouth - I think that's why I keep getting this over and over. I paid for the coffee and waited a few seconds to receive my little "cup of heaven". As soon as I got it, I went back to the chairs, placed my cup down on the table and tried to sit comfortably.

As soon as I was going to take my first sip, he entered the coffee shop. He was wearing a plain beige shirt, a pleasant pair of jeans, his trademark pair of glasses, and a bright, bright smile. He never did change. I got up and grabbed my bag from the other chair, put it on the floor beside my seat, extended my hand out and smiled back at him. I was aiming for a handshake but he hugged me instead. I guess that works too.

I sat back down while he ordered his cup of coffee which I guess would be a Macchiato - he always loved that. I don't know why, but I was staring at him the whole time he was ordering his coffee. Maybe it's because it was a long time since we last saw each other. Maybe it's because he didn't change. Maybe it's because I didn't change. He caught me looking and beamed me an intoxicating smile. I looked away for a moment, pretending I wasn't staring at him. By this time, I knew my face was red. I easily blush. Don't ask me why, I just do. Is it a weakness? Maybe.

Sure enough, he came back holding a cup of Macchiato. Still grinning, he asked me why I was blushing. I told him it was probably the heat outside, which was half true anyway. What followed was hours of catching up, that to be honest, felt like minutes. Everything just dulled my sense of time. His eyes are still those perfect pools of blue that bores into my soul whenever I talk to him. His lips still curve into that delightfully playful smirk that never fails to make you swoon. He still has that gentle touch that gives comfort and security.

As much as I wanted the day to last forever, it was time to say our goodbyes. I started packing my stuff: a slightly read book, a notebook and a planner. He laughed at me, saying I'm still a bookworm. Again, I blushed, then laughed back at him and stuck my tongue out. Before I could put my book in the bag, he grabbed my hand and asked me if he could just ask one more thing. I nodded and waited for his question.

"Can we try this again?"

This is why I hate talking with exes.