Açaí Bowls & Summer Nights
The night I no longer enjoyed my favorite dessert.
I stroll into the new bakery on my block late at night, craving my go-to dessert, a savory açaí bowl with extra coconut strips.
After ordering my açaí bowl at the counter, I manage to find the perfect empty seat to situate myself in the corner. I like corners — close to the walls; liberated from interaction. Face deep, munching on every savory bite of granola and coconut strips, I steal a perfectly timed glance at the double glass doors and catch your familiar face, casually stroll-on in.
Everything and everyone stops.
Suddenly, I’m not in the same cozy cafe anymore. The warmth of that bakery quickly turns cold; and what once was a corner seat between two adjoining walls swiftly transfigures back into a raggedy couch, dimly illuminated by the poor lighting we’d see each other on our computer screens. My heart drops and with a quick jerk backwards, I start rewinding back to the last time I saw you; back to a memory so ancient that I nearly overlooked the sentiment of wistfulness.
Here, in this moment, it doesn’t make even the slightest bit of difference how long it’d been since we last stood face-to-face, because, to me, your essence always just felt — timeless.
