Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Table for two as usual sire? prompted the waiter dressed with a classic single-breasted, two-button suit in navy blue as he held a thick receipt booklet.
Oh yes. Looking sharp as always Wally, that’d be splendid. Over by that corner with the glass overlooking Westminster Street please? Ryan replied.

Back at you. This way please, there’s rather been an interesting development, where’s miss… Wally added as he ushered me to the table.

I’d rather you not bring it up, bring me this instead; a platter of scrambled peppered eggs and a cup of cappuccino. A piping hot liquid mess. The way she loves it. Ryan interrupted.

Westminster Street. A premier business district in the heart of London, tall skyscrapers made second home to worn-out husbands who work tirelessly round the clock to meet the growing demands of the modern woman; only to be married to them. Amidst the countless traffic junctions and busy roads herein lies Tiffany’s, a quaint, old cosy coffee boutique. Stuck in time, the boutique stood erect for decades untouched by the plight of modernity, it refused to accept change and progress. Old red bricks against the clean slate of dull greys and Mondays. Vintage as its finest.

The first morning light came in from the glass panel where Ryan had himself seated and famished, lost in a deep thought. The light bounced back from his wrinkled temples, exposed his weary outlook on life. He looked for something tangible and symbolic to hold on to.

He picked up the fork on his table.

Now what can i do with this fork besides the conventional put-in-your-mouth and chew whatever’s that sticks on it? Imagine the implications if I were to inflict harm on myself. That would be absurd aye? How am i ever going to forgive myself? How is she going to forgive me? For the immense hurt I’ve inflicted on her myself. Nothing can ever compare to that. Nothing. He invested a considerable amount of interest in the metal fork; obsessed even, twirled it around like a kid in a candy store as he waited for his breakfast.

I don’t know why. Ryan placed the fork aside and wondered how he used to smile, how he looked across the table with the bundle of joy that was Leona, staring back at his eager dreamy eyes, gleaming with nothing but happiness. I just don’t know why. The seat was across him was nothing but an empty seat to him now. Ryan felt a gaping hole in his heart. Nothing.

Leona used to fill that gaping hole. She was the average, run-off-the-mill plain jane. A girl next door. Short brunette with a smile wide enough to take Ryan’s worries away. They used to be an odd couple, driven by the fact that Ryan had a line of beauties who could pass off as his partner. Leona was not befitting for him. As the saying goes, beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. Ryan had no eyes for others. None other than Leona. Many had eyes for Ryan and he ignored all of them. Ryan and Leona were not even an official couple.

They were just friends.

I caved in emotionally. I pushed for more. I demanded something i craved and longed for. Love, what do i even know about it? Thinking it was harmless but on its own, it has that destructive power to ruin even simplest of things; trust and friendship. What couldn’t be more beautiful that the joy of friendship? What have i done? What have I destroyed? Deep down, all i ever want was to have someone to talk to, to share the simplest of joy, the plight, sadness that life has to offer. I made this mistake without weighing in on her feelings, what she would feel from my demanding nature. I failed. I will outgrow it eventually, even now this breakfast I’ve ordered was your favourite.  I wonder how she will recover from this. If be, I hope she does. With time i hope. Apologizing doesn’t even mean a thing now. I will rebuild myself one day. She rebuilt me, I destroyed myself. I’ve destroyed everything.

Scrambled peppered eggs and a piping hot Cappuccino. According to your specifications sire. I’d best on my way while you enjoy your breakfast. Wally said as he placed breakfast on Ryan’s table.

That’ll do. Thank you Wally. Ryan replied.

Breakfast is served. It isn’t for me. I served myself a platter of regret and disappointment.
This is how I will remember you.
 Of scrambled peppered eggs and Cappuccinos. Ryan thought.

Ryan looked out of the glass panel, among the sea of men and women draped in trenchcoats across the street he saw Leona.

As happy as she could be.

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