Somehow just the way it used to be

When we are drinking coffee in this small town it all somehow feels just the way it used to be. We bask in our cynicism and raise ourselves above the rest of the world. All the unnecessary little cruelties we use to tell each other that we understand, all the insencere smirking, all the meaningful gestures.
Just about everything means something if you constantly keep an eye on the person you’re talking to. We are above simple appreciation because we act as if we were invulnerable and at the same time brag about our injuries.
Tell me, are you feeling so terribly tired of this as well?
I sometimes think we are only doing that because we know no other way of dealing with each other. You understand the side of me most people would not even believe in. When I talk to you it gets stronger inside me, mightier and whispers in my ear that it is naive to wish for the things I long for in this life.
And still I know that you would never harm me. You are one of those people few but me would trust in but I am completely sure when I say that I don’t have to fear you.
How about this: On “three” we both let go of our masks as none of us would dare take the lead.

One.

Two.

Three.

I know that we can do it with enough distance between us. And then it will be new and not at all the way it used to be when we drank coffee in this small town…

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