She went through the doors of the little restaurant, not because she was hungry but because it looked rather homely, and she needed some comfort right then.

She walked towards the furthest corner that had a view and sat down heavily. She looked off into space and thought a good fag would be great right then but thought she'd better ask someone before she lit one.

As she sat there she felt herself begin to space out, so in an effort to shake it off, sighing she pulled her bag handle over her head and set it next to her. My life's a mess, she thought to herself. It was becoming her mantra after settling in this godforsaken city. And she cursed her naivety.

She hadn't felt like going anywhere today, so she took a day off and stayed in bed for most of the morning. All she could think about, though, was him and her struggle with the term 'ex'. She tried reading her favourite novel but the heat of the day put her off it. She had got up to make coffee; her third cup that morning when she decided to take a walk. Fifteen minutes later she saw this little place. Throwing her cigarette on the floor and stamping it out she crossed the road to go in.

The restaurant wasn't busy so she wasn't that surprised that the manager himself, apron clad over slacks, came to ask her what she'd be having. He looked old but good humoured, even though you could see life had carved hard lines into his face. She felt them in herself- the wrinkles. And wondered if that's how aging happened – your heart got weary, then your soul gets creased and then finally, it hits your face.

She hadn't thought of eating but now felt compelled to order so she said out loud the first thing she made out before even considering the brief description next to it, "the number three, please". Funny how ingrained her manners were, even now, except, it wasn't so funny. Then she added, 'Coffee, strong coffee, and black? Thanks'. She knew this was not the sort of place to stock anything stronger than coffee, she didn't mind though, she liked coffee.

He gave a small nod and was about to leave so she seized the moment and asked "Would it be okay if I smoked in here?" He paused, looked at her - into her she felt - with an expression she couldn't make out completely. It made her think of her granddad. He was far older than this manager but the look in his eyes was not so different. She half expected him to bellow a caution at her as her granddad would, had he been here.

She was about to say something to fill the awkwardness that only she felt when he let up with a small smile and with mock exasperation rolled his eyes and said something in a language she couldn't understand. The only thing she got was the lowering of his head softly afterwards in a curt nod. "Thank you" she said weakly.

She waited for him to disappear behind the kitchen doors before she reached in her bag to take out the box. She pulled a cigarette out, lit it and sat back. She hated to think about it but she could swear that sometimes it was like the first drag was her life force being pulled back into herself again. The only thing was that it didn't last long enough.

She wasn't done with the cigarette when her coffee came. She finished it off while waiting for the coffee to cool down some. When it did she took it to her lips and savoured the smell a second before sipping it lightly. It was strong and just this side of bitter. She loved it that way lately. She used to like it sweet, but that was before. Sweet things are for light hearts and hers was weighed down by a heavy sombre cloud.

He was smart and everything he said seemed true to her or just felt right, and he often had the upper hand of sorts and mistook her silence for agreement, never knowing if she didn't agree. She loved hearing him speak anyway so hadn't minded. Now however she'd had time to think over everything he'd said, and since then she'd found suitable and equally smart rebuttals to his remarks.

It would serve him well if I went over there on the very next train and gave him a piece of my mind, she thought. Then she laughed self depreciatively because she'd heard somewhere that the trains were running late and anyway she knew it would be useless now – it was simply too late.

She was distracted from her thoughts by a couple walking in complete gaiety. And watched them as they sat down and began a hushed conversation it seemed they had been sharing all along; even as they walked in mum.

She sighed. This is how they had been, she remembered - always shrouded in their intimacy. With whisperings of sweet nothings and carefree ownership of each others' bodies, even in public – but that was before this city took them to their ruin.

Giving the couple their privacy, she lit another cigarette and looked out the window.

Her food was brought to her table by whom she regarded to be the manager's spouse. It looked good, like home cooked good, and smiling a slight, shy smile she thanked her. And found the smile reciprocated on the other woman's face before she left. She looked at the food but couldn't see herself eating it. So she picked up her coffee instead.

She tried not to think of him, but her mind transported her back to endless hours shared lazing under trees, or in the tree house that survived his childhood back home, a picnic gone wrong then right again after all. The memories flooded over her stopping her heart, and her stomach, shrunken and small, sank as low as it could.

It seemed nothing could stop her heart from the longing she felt. It was like an open valve unable to regulate itself – broken.

He thought it was better that they didn't see each other anymore. She'd felt like a child, helpless to bring him back to herself.

She knew he knew about the drinking, definitely knew about the smoking, and that he suspected her of silly love affairs with the-good-looking-city-boys, and that he blamed her for her now messy life. He'd said 'this city's ruined you...' before he added his final thoughts. And at that moment her heart congested and out of helplessness her tear ducts squeezed out a coating of saltwater at the base of her lower eyelids.

She struggled for breath as she wondered when he had changed.

Fresh tears stung her eyes, and she felt lost.

That's when she heard her empty cup being filled with a fresh looking pot of black liquid. "It's on the house", the manageress explained with an earnest expression. Taken aback a bit by the gesture she managed a "thank you."

As she sipped the coffee she looked up and caught a poor-girl look on the manageress' face as she walked away.

When she'd finally left the restaurant, she found herself on the way to his place head full of bright ideas, paying no care to any train that may be late. She would be heard and he would love her again even more so for her boldness.

She had wondered around some and almost chickened out. But she reached the front gate just as the night was setting in. And for a while just looked up at his window.

She saw his silhouette and the lights go on. And next he came running towards her with concern on his face then suddenly grabbed her fiercely to himself like he would take on a Spartan army if it were ordered to pull them apart.

Her heart stopped...and all she could do was feel the warmth of his embrace; the warmth that had plagued her dreams. He held her like that for a while before inviting her in and ushered her towards the door.

She savoured that thought a bit.

Then she pulled herself out of her spell and looked down at her watch and realized she had been standing there for too long and that the lights were still out.

Her tears felt warm as they ran down her cheeks abandoned to their fate at the toes of her boots.

The skies opened up at that moment but she stayed fixed on the pavement a little longer.

Craving a nice warm cup of coffee but not too eager to get home, she decided on a long walk in the dark rainy night.

She got to her place and paused to reach in her bag for her keys but they fell to the floor as soon as she got them out. With an exasperated sigh and an 'oh heck might as well' under her breath she made her seat next to them near her door in the dim light of the corridor and closed her eyes.

Some minutes passed in apathy.

Then feeling a presence she looked up to find her neighbour moving towards her, smiling gently, with two mugs in hand filled with the blackest coffee she had ever seen.

And her heart stopped beating.

*this was my attempt at adapting a song by an artist I like into a story*

*Also thanks DEB