Coffee.....

“Just black, no sugar” Zohra turned around. She hadn’t heard this voice in 10 years. Her mind went back to when she had been 18 and had met the 35 yr old Aslam, a widely acclaimed writer...long hair, black framed glasses, ragged jeans, the personification of all stereotypes. Even his black coffee had been so “adult” so “serious”. She had been enthralled but soon disillusion had set in. He spent hours locked inside his own mind, thinking… writing…creating and she was shut out. Many a mornings the empty coffee cups were the only indicators that Aslam had been home. Even his black coffee irritated her...it was so “pretentious!!” She had grown out of him. Looking at him now she wished…