Stir

STIR.
sneak

Embarrassment reigns if I
draw attention to her numerous habits. Its unlikely she knows just how
strongly her behavior effects me. She stirs her coffee. Five times
clockwise and five times anti clockwise. She's unaware that I've
counted. I know more about her conduct than is healthy. My obsession,
though not uncomfortable, is surely not normal. Our tired eyes meet
across a chequered tablecloth as she casually hooks her cascading dark
hair behind a jewelled ear. I reach for my cigarettes and romantically
offer her my last smoke. She declines with a yawning 'No'. I decide
there and then to quit. Within minutes I'm regretting my hasty
decision. Nervous fingers twitch and claw, frantically demanding a prop
to replace the pacifying cancer stick. I awkwardly rub my stubbled chin
in order to give them a part in the scene. She grabs them as I do so,
taking me by surprise, and clasps them in her own delicate
persuasion.
She sighs a caffeine sigh, grins and remarks,
'Don't you have big hands?' She makes me smile almost by default. Her
affect on me is duly noted by those around us. They say I'm quite a
different person when in her company. They say I'm in danger of
appearing normal. They say so many things. Their loosely veiled insults
would eventually dissolve like the sugar in my steaming black
coffee.  My love for her, however, would never disperse. They
could stir all they liked. Together, we made great
coffee.

sneak