Me, Coffee and Someone.
Coffee has always been my loyal companion — a friend with benefits, really. It’s there when I need a hand, a break, or a moment to breathe. After fights at home, the end of friendships, long therapy sessions, or simply when I feel alone — it’s always the same two constants: me and my coffee.
Sometimes, I genuinely feel like the people I meet over coffee are unintentionally third-wheeling what I have with it. That first bitter sip? It’s like a slap to my mind — sharp, grounding, real. It wakes me up to the present.
But recently, something shifted.
I went to meet someone over coffee — someone I’ve only known for a month — and it felt like a fresh sea breeze had swept in. Unexpected, calming, and oddly exciting. For the first time ever, I didn’t touch my coffee for over an hour. I just sat there, completely pulled into the conversation like I was sinking into quicksand — in the best way possible.
I’ve had some intriguing interactions online — on Reddit, especially — but this? This was something else.
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They finished their coffee in five minutes and started talking about 2001: A Space Odyssey as if they’d personally been on the journey. An hour in, I glanced at our cups — theirs was empty, mine untouched — and suddenly it felt like I was the third wheel. Sorry, babes (talking to my coffee, of course).
They made me feel seen. They used my name mid-conversation, and somehow that small thing meant a lot. We spoke about Kolkata’s poets, Carnatic music, the Lions of Gir, and even penguins in Antarctica. I was overwhelmed — in awe, really. I used to believe no one shared my love for these obscure things… and then, there they were.
Three hours later, we were walking along Versova Beach, talking about Olive Ridley turtles and how we should come during egg-laying season to protect them. I’d taken my coffee to go. It was cold by then, forgotten. Who is this person?
And there I was, mentally planning our next meeting — maybe we’d talk about Picasso, Van Gogh, and Kamo once lived in the same neighborhood in Paris. Or maybe we’d spiral into how Joe Russo pulled off Avengers: Endgame. I’m already picturing myself in my Spiderman T-shirt for that one.
Wait… is this too much?
Maybe I need to sit with my old friend coffee — just the two of us — and figure out what’s really brewing here.
