The Edge of the Internet

He stared deep into the oracle of coffee resting in front of him. He wondered if giving it a stir might help prompt a thought. Right now he desperately needed a clue as to what to do about his shattering heart. The oracle swirled around the soft brown pool, hot wisps of intent steaming off it, but still no prophecy to help him was uttered. Frowning his ire at the cup he decided to give up the quest and bashed the oracle’s brains out with a few quick whisks of his spoon. The coffee settled into his favourite shade of morning.

“Fuck what am I to do?” He checked his watch, she was late, or maybe he was easily. He couldn’t get the simple things right anymore. All he could think about was what would happen if she left him? He eyed the cup again. The oracle was dead, gone and sinking to the bottom to stain the enamel. He sighed and wondered if he had time to order a sharp knife for his veins from the bustling waitress.

"Hello pretty boy, you're looking you usual befuddled morning self." Her voice was a cool breeze on skin baked from a long day in the sun.

“Do I? It’s hard to tell sometimes. I think my face likes to express stories that are all its own. I am contemplative not befuddled.” He stood as a gentleman should for the woman he’s supposed to cherish. Her mischievous smile appeared as she slipped onto her chair adjusting her skirts to show a hint of leg.

“And what are we contemplating today my noble sir?” The waitress was ignoring his hand waving efforts to draw her over for their orders. He sipped cooling oracle and sighed himself to a conclusion. Today he would tell his affection some truths.

“In my cowardess I let my heart turn to stone and now it impedes my way.” Her smile did not sink but her eyes dimmed to sad.

“And where would you be going?” He hid behind his coffee cup swallowing a goodly sum. She was not letting herself be distracted by pretty things. Quietly she waited for him to speak. Somewhere he heard mummers in the crowd laugh.

“I want to say those words that mean so much to you, but the frosted lump in chest threatens to break. It is a fragile toy that too many have broken. I will not survive another shattering.”

“Silly boy, so dramatic and scared. Say the words, you’ve said them before, you can do so again. You’ll survive.” She reached across the table to poke his shaking hand.

“You’ve lied about me and to me in front of my face. You edit your memories like a playwright experimenting with a play. You mean nothing you say while stressing that others listen to you for your integrity. My heart refuses to keep my mind from analyzing. I will not say the words, they are merely tools for you to use.”

Her smile waned and failed, she hugged herself tight pulling back from him to lean depressed on her chair. The table between them became their joint barrier and shield.

“You may well say that but I refuse to believe your mean it. You are a coward but I care for you anyways. You live in a glasshouse as much as me. Speak the words, you know you don’t want to loose me, would that not break your heart as much? You can only change yourself, others can’t do it for you. Choose, or I will say them for you, either way what does it matter because you know we’re not really here.”

The waitress arrived in a rush to tsk. She whipped clean the empty table shaking her head at the abandoned full cup of coffee. The wind gusted as she picked the cup up and for a brief puzzling moment she thought she heard a voice.

“I love you.”

This is just a ghost story don’t read anything into it.