Just a thing

Oh how grieving it is to still love you.

I'm sitting at this front porch cafe, sticking out onto the roadside like a happy plague. And I'm waiting for someone, a friend from a long time back. He looks so good now, almost as if carved out of the actual Aaron Warner.

I told him to send a picture of him to me and he said he has a girlfriend. Despite all the love nonsense, he sent me a shirtless one and I don't know how to feel about that. My brightness was real low so I had to squint. I thought it was a blank black background but when I brightened it up, there he laid, tucked in a blue bedsheets with one arm under his head and another clutching the digital picture device. I quickly snapped it closed and it was a one time see too. I don't know. 

I asked him why does he talks with people if he doesn't cares about them or he thinks no one does about him too. He replied it was just exchange of work, favor or business for him. I feel weird, and it makes me think if I have anything to give back to him.

Some talk of business was going on between him and me one day, and he had said something cryptic about it. Hence I asked if shares in black market and he actually said yes. My heart stopped a beat there. I really knew I had to keep away from him. He assured me he left that part long time ago.

And now I'm sitting here on a cafe chair. It's white in color and camouflages in the baby pink background of the shop. The waiter brings my coffee, places it firmly on my desk before leaving with a genuine smile. It sometimes feels like the waiter is also having a life better than me. I wonder if I should have come in here.

'BOOM!' I spilled the coffee a bit from my mouth and a bit from my nose, looking back to find the real life Warner standing in front of me. He really looks like him a lot, the very reason why I ever texted him. 

'What the hell' I almost swored here. 'Please don't do this ever again' and I wipe the hot coffee lining and burning the outline of my lips. My white shirt with black stripes has now a big splashed brown stain of coffee right at the centre and some at the corner of my collar bone but I obviously couldn't care less when the literal Warner is sitting right in front of me.

I don't like him but there's something about his eyes which gets me every time. He has this mix of green and grey which seems to shine brighter everytime I look at the catch lights in it. He snapped his fingers and I realized I have been looking for long. But he knows I am weird. I frown.

'You do really look like him. Remember? Did you read about him?' He shakes his head. 'I couldn't get the time. You said there are 11 books right?' I nod. No way he'll read all those.

'And you look a bit different.' He narrows his eyes at me and leans forward crossing his arms on the table. 'Like?' I raise one brow and take a sip.

'I can not compare. It's not my habit. But I think you've grown prettier. Really.' He takes a sip too.