The Russian Couple

Every morning I go to the same cafe to get my work or writing done for the day.
It’s quiet.
It isn’t too hot or humid. (My brain functions better in the early hours.)
You can meet people here if you like but there is no obligation to interact.
At the same time each day a young Russian couple comes in.
They share a smoothie bowl.
He stirs and mixes the granola into the fruit smoothie and she always has the first spoonful.
They eat from one another’s spoons.
Have deep conversations with eye contact that can melt the walls around them.
I know. I’ve seen it.
They are lean with good postures.
It wouldn’t surprise me if they are dancers – ballet – they have poise and grace in movement and  in stillness.
Today she wears a red skirt.
He is an experiment in monochrome embracing the spectrum of grey.
They mirror body language as they drink their post breakfast coffees. Her’s a flat white. His an espresso. Thought they drink both from the same sized cup.
I wonder if they request their coffee to be served this way.
Light conversation peppers the coffee drinking.
They touch one another’s hands, fingers intertwining often.
When he talks her face opens like a flower.
Receptive, beckoning, yearning, grounded.
Some mornings she writes in her notebook for up to an hour.
Filling the pages with precise clean lines of script.
As she writes he reads but looks up to observe his love often.
His expression softens in observing.
This morning they leave directly after finishing coffee.
They step outside, look deeply at one another and walk off in different directions.
I have not seen them part before.

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