I watch cautiously as her hands wander through the air. I watch as she places her fingers alongside the clay mug. She uses an ounce of strength through her tips as she lifts the cup towards her curved lips. I watch as she slowly opens the red gates of passion and rests the white mug against her bottom lip. She pours the hot liquid down her throat until it rests in her stomach. She wipes the froth from her upper lip and chuckles from embarrassment. She flicks her hair and looks up at me. Her cold hard eyes pierce mine. I try my best to return her stare but she always wins. I look away and watch the crowd. I watch the young men and women of our society sipping away at coffee and tea, eating Danishes and reading newspapers. She reaches out and caresses my hand. With her forefinger she draws circles on the back of my hand. I watch as she makes figure eights and swirls. I tilt my head and look at her. Her gaze unchanged. Cold and hard. The corner of my lip curls into an attempt of showing emotion. She closes her eyes, longer than a blink but shorter than a while. I can smell her fragrance dancing across the table. It tangos passed the pastries and the hot drinks towards me. It brings back memories of love not lost but forgotten. Memories cherished in photo albums and in my heart. She suddenly stands and tells me she will be back. She withdraws a cigarette from her purse and exits the crowded room. I drop my head in dismay and relief. My breath escapes me in a hurry and I can breathe again. Fluid motions return to my arms and my head becomes a free-willed swivel. I feel loose and calm. I pull my head back into my spine before gazing out through the letter-stained window. I can watch her smoke her cigarette. Watch as she draws the smoke into her effervescent body. I watch as her body collapses as the smoke files out from her lungs. She too has become relaxed and free. The tensions in her shoulders are now with her aching feet. She could never get used to wearing heels. My mind slips into a daydream and I remember our fondest memory. In the summer at the shore, where we spent hours laying in the sand talking about nothing. Where we smiled at each other for what seemed like hours, but really were only seconds. The night we spent in the beach house. It was warm and filled with bugs but we couldn’t have felt happier. I watch now as she butts out her cigarette and returns to the coffee shop. She sits down and gives me a faint smile. I return the gesture but only out of reluctance. She pulls on envelope from her purse and slides it across the table. I look at it and then to her. She gives a reassuring nod and I slowly move my head from side to side. I pull the white sheets from inside the golden-yellow parchment. I take out my pen and apply my signature. An end to a dream, the final step in moving on. My eyes turn to hers. We lock in a stare and this time I win.