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  • I went to your cafe almost every day, for a long time - not for you specifically, you understand, but I did like it when you were the one who brought me my coffee and my pie. I went there because it was cheap, the atmosphere was nice, and the food was good. The first time we spoke was at the train station nearby, when you asked to borrow my lighter, and we shared a cigarette of time. We sat separately on the train, I think both of us made uncomfortable by real life and the cafe blurring.
    I got sick, then traveled for a while, and when I got back you had cut off most of your hair and dyed it silver. I didn't recognise you at first, although you were still beautiful. I moved into a house around the corner soon after, and the cafe became our front room, our communal space. You stopped asking where I would sit and instead asked me if I would be with the others. My housemates and I articulated the idea of a cafe crush, that wildly improbable and profoundly impractical fancy.
    We threw a party, and I invited you as I ordered my coffee that day. You said you'd try and make it. The party was a big one, spilling out into the alley behind us, and while I danced and drank and talked to a hundred faces, I kept a corner of my eye out for you.
    Around two, or maybe three, I wound up in the alley, and there you were, passed out on the bluestone. Your eyes were blank white, and you weren't responding to your housemate who was trying to wake you up, although your breath came steadily and your skin was warm. Your housemate assured me that this was a relatively normal thing. You'd feel like shit in the morning, but otherwise everything would be fine. I sat with you, with the vague idea that someone ought to stop you from choking on vomit, but mostly dealing with the disconnect between how you partied and how I partied. In one of your lucid moments, you complained of being cold, so I laid my coat on top of you, and folded my scarf underneath your head.
    A few days later you were working again, and when I ordered my pie and my coffee, you took my ten-dollar note and gave me back two fives.
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