clara khalsa

Love Between Time

It is 2008, a cold wintery morning in Milan, the fog is down and the cold is crippling in whenever someone opens the door to enter the café. I have my warm coffee and a pastry in front of me on the small white table. The buzz of the morning fills the space full of people shouting their orders in their normal hurry to go to work. I look around the small crowded space, the smell of baking pastries in the air, so familiar to me and brings my attention to my breakfast once again. While I give a bite of my croissant and a sip of coffee, I close my eyes and the thought of that night comes back to me. I start to remember those sweet moments the last time I saw Noah; I squeeze the black notebook into my hands and try to feel his memories a little closer. The sweetness of his mouth, the warmth of his body, his embrace over me, then suddenly the thought comes to my mind “has it been three years since we last saw each other without knowing that it would be the last time?”. The memories are still so present.