Spotify Soundtrack: no. 575 | coffee with him
Track Commentary Blog Post: Here
track no. 1: shape of you
Do you want some coffee? — Him
It’s as if he had heard her thoughts before she drifted to sleep, and knew that she temporarily fretted and yet immediately accepted how the morning would go. “Why can’t a cup of coffee just be a cup of coffee? Why does have to imply a relationship? Why is intimate evening wine okay but wakeup morning coffee too much? They always get so scared. They always get so distant. God forbid human connection take place when the sun is up on a day where neither of us have anywhere to be, when we can both enjoy a peaceful, sober time of awakening together.” She knew he wasn’t shy to hold her hand in public, which was already positive and new territory, and that even the slightest idea of if they could have coffee together in private was too greedy a wondering. Coffee was assumed to be off the table. And yet here she found herself being extended a request, to be his guest. The invitation alone was enough to provide the jolt often sought after in that first cup to begin the day.
track no. 2: hello, you beautiful thing
I’d love some coffee. — Her
The shine of the drawn-out brew process that comes with a metal filter and the rising sun, careful selection of mismatched cups in their blemished perfection, and the soft-spoken, energy-void morning chatter set the tempo. The banter in waiting for a just-enough fill of each cup was an artistic dance, a slow waltz of exchanged emotion and thought, set a peaceful pace and rhythm for the day.
track no. 3: rainbow
Look at how the light is coming through the kitchen window. Shining through your rainbow hair like that. It’s pretty. — Him
It was one of those moments that she considered the Best Compliment Ever prize might be awarded. It wasn’t just an admiration for her, but of nature, connection, and beauty for what it is. The celebration of the culmination of several elements in a single second. She selfishly didn’t want to share the glory, not even with the sun, and even though she had no choice but to do so, she still catalogued the framed, moving second of art as an honorable mention for sacred instances in which she was a participant.
track no. 4: like i’m gonna lose you
This can’t be real life. We’re living in a picture. Like a scene from a movie. — Her
She alluded to lyrics that likely only she knew between the two of them. They had different tastes, which always led to nonstop conversations of sharing and learning. With brew in hand, he guided the way to the porch, in full exploration of the world that the over-the-sink panes had revealed to them only in part. She played apropos lines from Like I’m Gonna Lose You in Jasmine Thompson’s delicate, dream-like voice after her recitation of the truthful “we’re not promised tomorrow.” and that this had to be savored. He cued up serene jazz selections on a small record player as a complement to the held liquid under in the richest of mostly-overcast skies, the most-suited soundtrack for their first sips. They discussed their music, their views.
track no. 5: sound
It is rather picturesque — one of my favorite words, by the way. Picturesque. Though it is a rather curated life. No one just happens to have a record player out on a porch, enjoying pourover coffee, with a cute girl, having good conversation. Or to use your word, delightful. This is a picturesque morning with delightful company. — Him
She tried to take in every colorful, artistic bit. The present outdoors in contrast to the indoor boxed pinot noir indulgence from the prior night, equal in its beauty. The timbre of his tale, this rhythmic and expressive, though somewhat-monotone delivery, was far more significant than the words being spoken against the backdrop of their interactions. The soft smile as he spoke and rolled his cigarette tied the scene together too well. As her mind inclusively took everything in, he went from praising the set and her, and on to his convictions regarding politics, religion, ideologies, art, music, humanity, and the myriad of other deep thoughts she too would often interweave into light-hearted, casual talks.
track no. 6: just dancing
I love that bird over there. See? With the big puffy chest? Peeking through the slats? — Her
The contrast of the broken picket fence, and the conversation between a divorced man and marriage-wary lady such as herself, brought forth a powerful reassurance to her recent resolve that Southern perfection is defined in experiences like the one that was unfolding before them. The early dating mornings, not the happily ever afters, were where purest significance should live. She wondered if he felt the same. She wondered what he thought about it all, as she listened to him carry on, and yet tapped into reserved mental space to simultaneously ponder the curious feathered friend’s thoughts. Did this bird know her thoughts? Did he know her thoughts? Was it this bird that was feeding him her thoughts? Did he think about what birds think? If not, would he find the fact that she did to be a deemingly-attractive quality? He might find the quirky to be too much. But then again, she needed to own her quirky. She did own her quirky. Perhaps for the first time.
track no. 7: liability
“What are you thinking about, little dude? What’s going on in your mind?” I do that sometimes. I like to imagine what’s going on in their head. Or like, with people. I love people watching. Making up backstories on who they are, what they’re doing, how they ended up in the same coffee shop line with me. I dunno. — Him
It wasn’t as if he was hearing her thoughts, he must’ve absolutely known them. If anything, he intuitively sensed her heart, and she liked being seen like that for a change. And then fear creeped in, just at the time of comfort. If she shared she did the same, would he think she was merely imitating him, despite the fact he knew that individuality and strong sense of self were traits she proudly exclaimed to possess? She decided he was unaware of the manifestation of this supernatural insights to her soul, and wanted to make sure she informed him of any missed. She had to tell him, if anything for her own assurance and opportunity to explain the way she tended to process complexities of her world. She never did that with the others in the past, things were different now. She learned from the past. Love yourself. Embrace yourself. Own yourself. He didn’t have to embrace her, though she certainly enjoyed it when he did.
track no. 8: wildest dreams
I like making up stories. Bird thoughts, human thoughts, my own reality. Whatever you see in your head is what makes up your story, you know? I think that’s why I like to write. I like to document things the way I want them to be remembered. — Her
She’d been here before. The stage had been set for this pivotal point in their movie-like romance. Like any movie, she was aware that at some point, the credits would scroll. She needed to record the beauty of what she’d qualify as her first film, alongside her amateur songs and stories.
Would he remember her? She liked to think that he would, and again longed for his intuition to unsolicitedly acknowledge and calm her angst-filled soul. He was always so good at that, one of the reasons she hoped he’d remain part of her life, even if only as a friend. She’d settle for him as only a fond recollection, and requested of herself to make sure she would hold onto the memory in its rare, treasured beauty.
She took her last sip, slowly stood, and leaned in for one last kiss. She’d felt the sentiments on her lips as they began to part, but her craving for words was graciously indulged by him. For her.
track no. 9: coffee
Thank you for being a part of my story. You’re lovely. We may no longer be dating, but I do hope we can get together for coffee sometime. — Him
She liked this one. She was sad it was over. But she was happy. At the very least, this one was given a name, a healthy step in the right direction. J-Sasterisk was part of her story. She was a part of his. Short-lived or otherwise, no argument could be posed to question the enrichment they brought to one another’s lives. And for her, regardless of whether their romantic paths would cross again, she knew at least for herself that her own dating selections were finally on the right track.
track no. 10: style
Coffee would be nice. Times with you are a lot like this fine cup of coffee, you know? Energizing, awakening, yet relaxing and oh so enjoyable. Whatever picture that paints. Artistic movie moments, complete with a soundtrack, condensed into a cup. This is the highest of honors one can receive from me, by the way. You know my deep regard for coffee. A timeless representation of beautiful perfection. You wanna be out and about with them other girls. But that’s alright. Like coffee, and these moments, we’re timeless. Forever in style. — Her