No One, Not Even the Rain, has Such Small HandsMature

I stood at the marbled counter, drumming my fingertips on it as I awaited the drinks Talia and I had ordered. My gaze wandered lazily to the table; Talia still seemed a little uncomfortable. I soon realised why; her friend gave her an ice-cold glare. As I began to think of a way to help her feel more at ease, the barrister cleared his throat. Having already paid, I took the drinks to the table; Talia's latte and my cappucino, and placed the latte in front of her. See seemed a little distant. Perhaps she's upset about her friend? I thought and, as she reached for her coffee, it slipped out,

"What's wrong?" She looked at me, cradling her coffee in her hands and replied,

"Nothing." I could see that she was lying. I wanted to help her. I moved my untouched cappucino to one side and placed my hands in the middle of the table, palms facing upwards. Thankfully, she took my hint and tentatively lifted her guard from her cup, touching my fingertips with hers. I smiled helplessly, feeling how small and delicate her hands were in mine. I felt the tension in her fingers, and stroked them with my thumb in an attempt to relax her. I drew my hands away from hers,  a small smile fighting its way to her lips. I drank deeply from my cappucino, aware of the stare digging its way into my neck, nibbling its way into my train of thought. I couldn't understand the sudden coldness Ella was displaying, she had seemed really friendly that night at the party. Of course, alcohol tends to wrap a false identity around a person. Unable to take it any longer, I downed the last of my coffee; Talia had consumed hers in the silence. I stood up and went into the bathroom to clear my head.

I was starting to remember.

The End

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