Das Leben Ohne Kaffee

I never drank coffee with Takeshi when he came to visit me in Austria. Not exactly sure how that happened, given both of our coffee habits. On the other hand, the pretext of his visit and the unforeseeable events of the trip may explain our lack.

Instead of casually indulging in one of Salzburg's classiest cafes with my international boy-toy, I felt like I was babysitting a grumpy, sick toddler who happened to be presenting some brilliant philosophical stuff at a conference in Austria. Among the various ailments he was suffering from was an unfortunate eye infection that forced him to wear the glasses that show just how poor his vision really is. He also couldn't sleep at night, which meant that I too was awake for three days straight. I just couldn't be nice to him.

I was so frustrated with him and the situation that I broke up with him then and there in my shitty little Austrian apartment. Interestingly, that day was our best day together during that trip. Reconciling our broken relationship with laughs and make-outs was like the funny foam on top of a cappuccino.

Takeshi received the e-mail about his father's sudden death on Tuesday morning—the day after I broke up with him.

We never had coffee in Austria. In fact, it would be a long time before we could have coffee again.