O Pepito, Pepito, wherefore art thou Pepito?

A melancholy swirl of my straw distracts my hands, but my eyes are wandering. I look around the room but there is no purpose. He is not here.

Chip after chip makes its way to my lips, I am hoping the crunch will drown out the voices of sorrow in my head, but it brings no relief. A sip of tea? The liquid only reminds me of the tears I will cry later, knowing that he is not with me. I stand to leave, the fabric of the booth peels off of my bare legs. The momentary pain takes my mind off of my true longing. I walk, and catch a fleeting image to my left. A momentary glimpse, but it was he!

I can leave now. In peace. 

August 18 2014

I sit on the patio, watching a bead of water slowly slip down my glass. It drips onto my hand and I relish the feeling of the cool liquid for a moment before I swat at it with my napkin. I take a sip of tea and look up. Out the in parking lot, the figure of a small man dances on a sign, his maracas flashing, the neon a sharp contrast next to the dark sky.

I sigh. It is Pepito, my first love.