Ben made the black liqueur that he and Elizabeth called coffee on Saturday mornings at 9:23 am. The morning after the weekly crash into each other after the week's absence. The morning after the long night of chattering at high speed at the Moroccan restaurant, and then whispering gently after they'd made the frantic love of catching up. The morning after always held the ritual of Turkish coffee with cane sugar and croissants from Marly Patisserie on Harvard Square.
They sipped and slowly swallowed the nutty bitterness of the brew every Saturday knowing that only 28 hours remained of their reunion.
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Once again, I want to live in your story! I love the 'weekly crash into each other,' and 'the frantic love of catching up.' I love also that the next morning, they swallow the 'bitterness of the brew.' Just perfect!
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