Title: The Coffee Cup That Waited

Coffee Cup That Waited

By Omar Mohammed Published 8 months ago • 1 min read

In the quiet corner of an old café tucked away from the city's noise, Hana sat alone, staring into a cup of coffee that had long gone cold. She wasn’t drinking it—she was reading it, like a book written in steam and silence.
The waiter approached gently. “Would you like a fresh cup, miss?”
She shook her head, her eyes still fixed on the swirling surface. “No, thank you. This one has a story.”
Exactly one year ago, someone had sat across from her in that very chair—a man who had held her heart in his smile. Their first meeting had happened here, over two cups of coffee and endless conversation. He had promised, “This won’t be our last cup.”
But it was.
Without warning, without goodbye, he vanished. No explanation. Just silence.
Since then, every Friday, Hana returned to the same spot. She always ordered the same drink and left his chair empty. The coffee wasn't for sipping—it was a ritual, a quiet remembrance. Some cups aren’t meant to be drunk; they’re meant to hold memories, to preserve what time tries to erase.
And so the coffee waited with her, cold and patient—just like her hope, still clinging to the faint possibility that one day, he’d return to finish their unfinished cup.

🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🌴🌴🌴🌴🌴🌲🌲🌲🌲🌵🌵🍀🍀

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