Christmas Brunch

Her hair flowed with the breeze when my eyes caught them. He held her close to his body, arms holding tight to her waist while she playfully let her weight give into his trust. She cocked her head back and smiled. I looked at my breakfast and swallowed their joy. I watched them through my cappuccino’s dissipating foam and missed you. It is Christmas morning and every random embrace reminds me of us.

They waited for their table as if hunger never mattered. They floated through the minutes, unaware of the driving by traffic and the impatient starving families on the line. They kissed softly, a long kiss disregarding spectators’ glances. She caressed his right earlobe. I could then smell you with my eyes closed. They looked at each other and there was silence. My silence was louder. My silence swayed with the cold breeze, chest filled with your presence.

It was sunny but my hands were cold. They had dived into an universe parallel to the audience, where the rain is warm and the sun soft on the skin. I swallowed caffeine to wake up from my dreams. I gulped large amounts of the liquid crack and chocked up on my longing. I blushed quietly. They blushed openly, pure naivety of young love.

I looked down and focused on the medium-rare piece of heaven on my plate, I replaced my love with gluttony, forging fullness through my emptiness. I left the couple alone to their moment and duck-dived into the yellow yolk running onto my hash browns. I ate food for the soul and licked my lips, dipped in live memories of your taste. I pounded through my meal until my cutlery was properly propped down on the right side of the plate, as you’d so well appreciate, and suddenly your slow blink sneaked back into my mind.

Man, it’s Christmas for God's sake and never again to be spent away.

Sovereignty

And his mother tacitly told her,
"You're welcome, as long as you don't come in".