He sat across the table from her, with his white cup of pitch black coffee infront of him, with both of his hands holding the cup tightly, as if though he couldn't feel the burning sensation of that hot coffee touching his palms. He looked at her as though he'd never wanted to see anything else but her eyes, her lips. Although they almost made him gasp for air.

She gently bit her lower lip, while looking down, as if trying to figure out how to express all those things she had been meaning to tell him. It had been so long since they heard each other's true voices, and not the ones in their wondering memories.

She opened her mouth slowly, and then proceeded to nervously laugh, as if she just had had a ridiculous thought cross her mind, as she looked out the big window next to the table. It was sunny and nice out.

"I am fortunate to say that I have people to love me, but somehow you make me feel unloved. I'm a fool. Ain't I?" she finally said.

She looked towards him and shyly looked back out the window.

He thought she looked so lovely with the sun shining on her face, such beautiful creature, perhaps the most beautiful he had ever seen -No, not perhaps, she certainly is- he corrected himself. 

He waited for his heart, soul, brain, or whatever it was that had to be ready to speak, to utter words. It seemed so simple to most people and it was usually a very easy task for him, but she always made him crumble, feel lost like a strained dog or a little boy on his first day of school. He pulled himself together, had a sip of his coffee and finally spoke.

"I wish your feelings were different. I can tell you what I think is true, that even though I am certain of the pain I'd cause to another man, I'd steal you away, and not care at all about doing such thing, as long as I get to fall asleep next to you, and wake up to see you still next to me. But what's the point of you knowing that? What's the point of you knowing how many times a day I think of you, and with closed eyes try to imagine you doing whatever it is you do; sitting in chairs, smiling with your dimples, smoking a cigarette, rolling your eyes, day dreaming, crying, breathing...what's the point? If it's only point is that you know you are constantly in the head of a man in shambles, then be it known". He looked down at his coffee again, locking eyes with her for so long made him weak. He had another sip of his coffee and looked out the window, the day was very nice indeed.

The sound of the laughter of two ladies in another table, who appeared to know every secret in town -it seemed like a friendly town- distracted Abigail from the scenery outside -those colored autumn trees and Leo sitting across made her feel as if nothing in the world could ever go wrong. The women were accompanied by three children, who were running around in the background asking for another scoop of ice cream. "Chocolate, Cookie dough, Melon Dew!" were some of the infinite flavors they screamed out.

They looked at each other once more.

"Please don't say things like that" she said. "Don't say that again".

He felt as if they were further than they seemed to be. She was unreachable. Like the moon. I can't let her notice the effect she has on me, he thought. Stop it. Just stop desiring to touch her, he'd order himself.

She slowly rose from her chair and grazed her fingers on the table towards him. She stopped when she almost reached his hand and looked up "How about we take a walk?". He watched her for a second and got up.

They were walking next to each other.

Some small birds were in the battle of their lives, fighting for a piece of bread covered in dirt, they would chirp away and elegantly dance to some lovely ritual they weren't even aware of.

"I have to leave soon" she said while they walked through the Paths of the Lovers, as once some hopeless romantic had named such -now- pale parks. 

He didn't respond. He didn't want this to end. 

He grabbed a light blue handkerchief from his pocket and held it tight. He tried to slightly lift it to give it to her but failed miserably.

He turned to her and tried to speak, holding the handkerchief as tight as his body would let him, it felt as if his sweaty palm could turn it into dust.

"I must go" she hurried to say, "this was a terrible idea". She started walking the opposite direction, but looked at him one more time "yet beautiful" she said at last. She placed her hand in front of her red lips and gently bit it, and proceeded to walk away.

He watched her leave, like he had done many times before.

He lit a cigarette and looked up at the only yellow tree that was left in the whole wide world. She had left it there for him to make him feel the agony of his loneliness, he thought.

He sat under the tree with himself. But, all of a sudden, it was him who was absent.