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I can feel you through my skin.  You are the one who dictates my feelings, the one who knows all my fears, and the one who makes me recognize that I like this man next to me.  But what you don’t quite understand is that in this reality you are not the only one who dictates things and whether you like it or not, you have to understand that for things to work you have to go in sync with another heart to create the most beautiful melody.  We have been through this all our life and we still don't understand each other.  You say white and I say black.  I say that it is impossible and you insist on continuing without sometimes realizing that you are hurting me.  In the end, we hurt each other because I am you and you are me.  I hurt you because I do not dare to make your wishes come true and you hurt me because you don't accept my lack of character.  Sometimes I think you had bad luck when you choose me as your owner, but then I think that it was not our choice at all, it was a matter of destiny or chance.  One thing I am sure of is that because of our history together, this man beside us will never feel the same way.  For the same reason I am warning you to prepare yourself to listen and feel me cry because no matter how much I try to tell you not to fall in love again you decided to do it again, you decided that you would feel again what it is to have an unrequired love.

It's 11:11 am in Mrs. Cecilia's coffee house.  And while I drink the best cappuccino in town I am making a wish just like every time I am lucky to look at the clock when its 11:11.  I know it sounds cheesy and somewhat stupid but I've been doing it for a long time and although nothing comes true, just looking at the clock at that time gives me hope that something good is going to happen today.  It is Tuesday my only day off of the week and if you are wondering what my job is, you only need to know that it consists of deciphering letters and counting pills.  Don't misunderstand me I love my job; I earn good money, I can take trips, buy goodies to my dogs and have the house of my dreams.  But with everything and that I need days like today to recharge batteries and what better than to do it with a cup of coffee, a good cake, and a novel by Nicole Jacquelyn.

Sitting at the corner table like every day that I come to the coffee house, the person who lately owns all my dreams enters through the door.  His name is Andrew. And how do I know that?: well, the first and only day that he sat down next to me, I unintentionally spilled my cup of coffee all over him.  Since then, every time we meet we make a gesture of greeting but nothing more.  We don't talk at all.  And despite that my heart has decided that he would be the possessor of my fantasies from now on.  Today as every day Andrés orders an espresso cup with a corn cake. - Help me God I know what he orders, this is crazy- (I say in my mind).  I take a deep breath and try to focus again on the task of continuing to read the book I have on my cell phone.  It is at that moment that something strange happens, something that I was not prepared for.


Looking forward I try to decipher how much longer it will take me to get to Cecilia's coffee house.  Today is Tuesday and like every Tuesday since I arrived in town I try to arrive at the coffee house before 11:00 am but today it seems that luck is not on my side.  And you may wonder why I am so idle to arrive.  I can tell you that it is not for coffee or cake although both are the best in town.  It's really to see if I'm lucky enough to meet the woman who sits at the corner table.  If I tell my friends that she is the reason for my visits, they would make fun of me. They already do it but for totally different reasons.  They see the fanfare with which I leave work to be able to arrive at the coffee house on time and they believe that I do it because I have an affair with the owner Cecilia who is 70 years old and continues to work in her beloved coffee house.  But it is not like that, well my love is not with her but with the woman who spilled her cup of coffee the first day I met her.

She goes every Tuesday at the same time and sits in the same corner as if she didn't want to bother anyone or as if she didn't want to be disturbed.  But the morning we met that table was full before she arrived so she had to sit in on of the high chair of the coffee house.  I saw her the moment she entered to the coffee house and I still remember in detail what she was wearing. It was a green dress similar to the emerald color - and yes I am a man who can say emerald color - paired with white sneakers and a small purse.  Everything about her is small and delicate like her. Her hair was straight, long and color amber.  She wore little makeup because in reality she does not need any and her lips where color red, which made them more desirable.  When she asked for her order, she looked at the corner table and seeing that it was occupied, decided to sit in one of the high chairs but the furthest from mine.  I don't know what went through my mind but at that moment I decided that I wanted to know her or at least know her name so I waited for her order to arrive to make my move.  When this happened I got up from my chair and approached her with my cup of coffee, she was turning her back to me looking for something in her purse when I sat down and at the moment I was going to say -Hello! - She turned and I think that because of the fright of seeing me so close she spill the coffee all over me.  Among the ruckus of the broken cup, the fright of our proximity, how hot the coffee was, and the words of apology and concern that kept coming out of her mouth, our first meeting was a disaster.  And if it had not been for the business meeting I had, I would have stayed there with her, convincing her that it was not her fault, and that in reality our first meeting could be one of the funniest stories that one day we could tell our grandchildren.

After that day we have continued to meet every Tuesday.  Well, I really think it's me who have manipulate our meetings.  That first week I came every day until I realized that she only comes on Tuesdays at 11.  So I decided to do the same.  She always orders a cappuccino and a cake.  And when she's not writing on her computer, she's reading from her cell phone.  She always dresses comfortable, she never wears too much makeup, and always has a smile for anyone who greets her.  I don't know if she realizes that every time I come to this coffee house I do it for her, to see her, I don't know if she realizes how much time I spend looking at her and if she sees in my eyes how many times I have dreamed of her.  But today I am late and I do not know if I will see her and that would be horrible, because if I do not see her today it means that I will not see her until next Tuesday, too many days without seeing her smile.  So I am determined that if I see her when I get to the coffee house, I will sit next to her and say: Hello! My name is Andrew.


Avid reader of romantic novels.  I love romantic and suspense movies.  My work during the day requires precise knowledge of different drug names.  This is the first time I write something and I don't really expect anything in return I just want to do it, because why not.  I am not trying to be someone who I am not, I just want to create my own heroes.


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