Love Shot X Shot of Love

Blue hours X Blue time

"I don't remember the last time we did all that.”

Not because things are still fine. Because we can still maintain the charade that things are not so bad as in their reality.

Back when we were still wearing masks that everything was fair.

Ahmad cleared his throat, reminding me that today there is no room for sadness. Today I was able to have breakfast with a man who I felt was very deep.

When we arrived, we sat down immediately. I directed the juice, and Ahmad directed the coffee.

Ahmad gave no signs, not even subtle, that he was not at all comfortable with me, alone, sharing food. Meanwhile, I was uncomfortable because I was excited by the prospect of breakfast.

As we sat waiting for our food, talking about work and family, my legs shook intently. Shake in pleasure, and shake in worry over what others might think.

How do we look?

Do we seem to be a couple having breakfast on a lazy Sunday, chatting without thinking about our days.

No. gabe. How can we?

People should consider us fathers and daughters. I am talking about friends, after all, and even how Ahmad has aged, it is obvious, no doubt, no longer, that he is too old to sit here in any kind of romantic atmosphere, with me.

Even after we received our food, as delicious as it was, I could not remove the heavy weight on my chest that would not allow me to relax, and enjoy my time with Ahmad.

Always worry about what others think.

"Well, what do you remember?"Ahmad had asked, having already shoveled half the sausage and egg away, his appetite was as great as ever.

He ate like a tank, probably because he was built like one.

"It's better."I replied, watering my waffles in more Strawberi shingles, creating a wet and delicious mess. "Want to try?”

After scooting my plate in that direction, He put his face in the mass of sugar, and shook his head. "Enjoy for me.”

I laughed, "Oh I'll."After the bite of my best waffle I will definitely have, I speak again. "You don't like sweet things, do you? I've never seen you eat anything sweet at least.”

Entertainment crossed his eyes. "Never had a sweet tooth.”

"Huh, well, can't say I'm related."As if in a demonstration, I swirled forkfully as I waffled around the pool of shingles.

"I can see it.”

"I don't see how you don't like eating sweet foods. They are like ultimate comfort foods. It's really worth feeling sick after that."I'm adding.

Ahmad looked at me carefully. "I have a few exceptions.”

"Like?”

His eyes were deep, and something difficult was being controlled through them because he was leaning on the chair too small, his hands crossing his chest. "You're pretty sweet.”

My eyes widen.

"Feel better than that waffle too.”

I swallowed, grateful that no one was close enough to hear us. "You never tried waffles though."I almost whispered.

"No need.”

What the hell am I supposed to say to that?

Xxxxxxxxx

Not since things were still okay. Since we were still able to keep up the charade that things weren’t as bad as in reality they were.

Back when we still lost the facade that everything was just.

Ahmad clears his throat, reminding me that today has no room for sadness. Today I get to have breakfast with a man I feel deeply for.

When we arrived we were sealed immediately. I ordered juice, and Ahmad ordered coffee.

Ahmad gave off no signs, not even subtles, that he was in any way uncomfortable being with me, alone, sharing a meal. Meanwhile, I was asset unsettled as I was thrilled at the prospect of breakfast.

As we sat waiting for our food, talking about work and family, my leg shook insistently. Shaking in excitement, and shaking in worry over what others might be thinking.

How do we look?

Do we appear to be a couple having breakfast on a lazy Sunday, chat mindlessly about our days.

No. How could we?

People must assume we’re father and daughter. I am talking about friends, after all, and despite how well Ahmad has aged, it is appropriate, no doubt, that he is far too old to be sitting here in any sort of romantic setting, with me.

Even after we received our food, as delicious as it looked, I could’t remove the heavy weight on my chest that wouldn’ me to relax, and enjoy my time with Ahmad.

Always loved about what others are thinking.

“As good as you remember?” Ahmad had asked, having already shoved half his sauce and eggs away, his appetite as big as ever.

He eats like a tank, probably because he’s built like one.

“Even better.” I responded, dousing my waffle in more strawberry syrup, creating a soggy, delicious mess. “Want to try?”

After scooting my plate in his direction, he frowned at the mass of sugar, and shake his head. “Enjoy it for me.”

I laughed, “Oh I will.” After another bite of the best waffle I’m sure I’ll ever have, I spoke again. “You don’t like sweet things, do you? I never see you eat anything sugary at least.”

Amusement crossed his eyes. “Never had a sweet tooth.”

“Huh, well, can’t say I relate.” As though in demonstration, I swirled my current forkful of waffle around the pool of syrup.

“I can see that.”

“I don’t see how you can’t like eating sweet things. They’re like the ultimate comfort food. Totally worth feeling sick afterwards.” Added.

Ahmad eyed me carefully. “I have some exceptions.”

“Like?”

His eyes deepened, and something unnuly passed through them as he leaned back in his too-small chair, his arms crossing over his chest. “You’re pretty damn sweet.”

My eyes widened's.

“Taste even better than that waffle, too.”

I gulped, thankful no one was close enough to hear us. “You haven’t even tried the waffle though.” Barly whispered.

“Don’t need to.”

What the hell was I supposed to say to that?