Haze

The fragrance of a dark coffee. And the rain that is weeping down the large window, somewhere up, above the city. The warmness of the coffee cup buried in one palm, the coldness of the window’s glass painted all over the other. Her breath hazed the window. She smiled and wrote few words with her finger. Then stepped back amazed to see the same words being written backwards by the hand she remembered so well, on the other side of the glass.