COFFEE
a strong smell of roasted coffee beans permeate your blue pullover. in this little bubble of artificial winter, time seems to have stopped completely. outside, the autumn rains cover the city in dark, glassy wetness.
our tiny table in the centre of our room is littered with papers and pens. your back faces me, colouring the room with a spot of light blue. it kinda suits you, complements your brown eyes and dark black hair, lightly ruffled, lazily swept back with gel in the morning.
“what's for lunch?” my stomach grumbles in discontent. I was too lazy to make breakfast, you were too lazy to go down and get a takeout.
you murmur something incoherent, the fountain pen in your fingers sliding across the surface of the lecture pad as you fill the pages with your usual magic.
I poke your spine with my finger impatiently. the sound of the rain gets steadily heavier . there's something comforting about the fuzzy darkness in our room. I can feel your warmth just right next to me, and I can't help but smile. lazy, rainy Thursday mornings in Tokyo are best spent with someone you love, after all.
I shift myself closer to you, resting my head on your shoulder, breathing in your smell of caramel and cocoa. my stomach grumbles, but my heart sighs in content as you nonchalantly reach over and tickle my nose with your finger.
I close my eyes and smile in happiness. I hear you faintly saying something about caneles and hot chocolate as I drift away to sleep, dreaming of sheep.
And of you.