subject line: sipping on a memory. December 29, 2015 by Hannah Brencher the kitchen counter rainy days and coffee breaks are my personal excuses to reminisce. and today I have both which is perfect because I saw you last night. I knew I would see you at some point again in life, but I didn’t think it was going to be last night.it might’ve been the alcohol but my heart began to flutter before I even saw you walk into the bar. my body still has that intuition, it’s still connected to you somehow, catching the rays that you’re radiating. but tell me how do you keep weaving your way into my life even though it’s been four years of college and thousands of miles between us? you used to say I was always an “unfinished business”. you always wanted to claim me, but could never just appreciate me being there. then you left for school and I stayed here. I didn’t wait around, but we never did fully said goodbye to one another, we just avoided it. but here we are, our paths skirting next to each other on these high school streets. regret and words left unsaid create a fog that loves to choke the air from the room. flashbacks of us light this old and damp road into the past. and my heart tightens up at how we messed up our plans and our chance to be together. how we messed up each other. but when I see you I see second chances. I see us doing it right this time.but now I’m sitting at my kitchen counter, wearing my flannel from last night and holding my mug of coffee that has gone cold. I’ve reheated it four times already and now I’m giving up. the rain has stopped and so has the feeling that we were supposed to work out. and that there’s nothing for me to miss anymore. catching your gaze from across the bar stirred an urge to take back those years in blazers and plaid skirts. but it was only a gaze. a fleeting moment. a break from reality. something that isn’t supposed to stay. and neither were you.