When we started dating, Fletcher and I decided to do writing prompts together. we alternate picking a word or phrase and both write something based upon or off of it. These are our original responses to the prompt “The Naked Barista Cafe” We wrote these when I was living at 108, my magical apartment and we were falling in love

The Naked Barista Cafe

maybe nude but it doesn’t matter 

The coffee is burnt and we are fried . 

I would say I love you but that would be weird so I get up when I don’t have to . 

No clothes on in the kitchen. 

the coffee boils out of the pot that’s made for one .

I have lived a million lives before you. 

I split it and add water  .

like an americano. i shrug . 

I still feel afraid often so I never hand you anything without a warning .

Maybe we will be less afraid together

The coffee doesn’t matter and it doesn’t matter that I’m naked .

I think you think it’s nice  . 

 I see your tangled hair in the light and I think you are handsome and lovely and perfect for me . 

I hand you the coffee and you reach for my arm . 

We laugh about something and think we are lucky . 

that makes me think about the dead cat. 

We both have a lot of things we could say but don’t have to.

There is kindness in the coffee and the way you drink it even though it’s bad .  

Grace

There’s this window in her apartment, 

This kitchen window 

And it’s my favorite I’ve ever encountered

The view is nothing to note

Just a tiny alley facing her neighbors and the decaying siding 

It doesn’t hold a candle to the other window 

The one that overlooks the lake 

That she likes to mention to all her guests

Myself included

But in the mornings when I stay over

I lethargically and lazily turn over in her bed 

While wiping the sleep from my eyes the view always takes me by awe 

Because the way the sun hits this window 

It lets in just enough light 

Where the rays of the sun illuminate her beautiful body and caress her every curve 

As she dancing through the kitchen in nothing but her rings 

Each strand of her bleach blond hair catching the sun 

Even the unkempt flyaways can take my breath away,

There she is 

Preparing our morning cups of coffee 

That she will most likely burn,

But I’m learning to love burnt coffee

And a cup by her tastes more sweet than bitter

I don’t know if she knows that I stare and watch this all unfold 

I like to think she doesn’t 

she’s naturally this beautiful in her own space 

I could watch her all day

This silly little kitchen window lets in just enough light 

To make me realize 

Sometimes it’s not always about looking out 

But what’s inside is more important 

Fletcher

Lucky, the best cat.