I hiccough and embody every single drunken clich� I can. Fuck, I might as well just draw tiny bubbles above my head.
I am telling you this because there is no one else. Don't ever feel special around me. Think of yourself as less of a friend and more of a replacement. If I were in a relationship, and a male, you would be the other woman.
Just to put things in perspective for you.
In his picture he's suave and dark, the things I never liked about coffee but love about him. As long as we're being honest, though, I love everything about him.
Infatuation or obsession, no one knows.
I hiccough again when I get his voicemail, his voice like the things I do like about coffee, the smoothness and the richness. And his eyes like coffee make me remember him telling me I have pretty eyes a year ago, him telling me I have big eyes a week ago, maybe it wasn't sugar or lies, maybe it was just him.