Vyacheslav Ashes. A coffee shop (№ 411694)

When you were cold, I put my sweater on you, and I felt warmer. When you were in pain, I clenched my teeth and whispered in anger about myself. I knew the taste of your tears, endlessly kissing your wet face. And you didn’t even know what time I’m a stranger tomorrow. I prayed for you on Wednesdays when you set the alarm for eight. And on Thursday, I hated you. Fifteen minutes to nine ...