Coffee and a Story

If we were having coffee right now, I’d tell you a story.
A story of my life about someone I met.
I met someone years ago, and she was like me.
Like me in the sense that she loved her coffee.
Her coffee was always black, and her heart otherwise.
Otherwise, we had nothing much common between us.
Between us, though, we throve in our friendship.
Our friendship lasted longer than any coffee
Any coffee could get us talking about any and everything.
And everything would fade away when we began a conversation.
A conversation, that would transcend borders of territory and time.
And time, though, in time, caught up with our friendship too.
Friendship, too, I realised, would grow cold if left alone.
Left alone coffee would wither, and so did our relationship.
Our relationship that started from a coffee, ended the same way.
Same way we went, but we no longer looked at the same horizons.