You’re running the tip of your pointer finger around the rim of the cup of hot tea you ordered several minutes ago, and it was still steaming, but I was sure you’d leave it there long enough for it to get cold. I ordered chai, but favorite. I take the bag out of the cup and take a sip, realizing I’d steeped it too long and push it far from me. You’re taking deep breaths across from me, your red lipstick smeared just slightly on your top lip and I reach out to fix it with my thumb, pushing the mistake back into perfection; although it was hard to find a flaw on a pretty face like you. You smiled slightly, but not brightly like you would any other day and this was the exact moment I realized this wasn’t a normal sit down tea break between our busy days like usual. This was a breakup tea break. This wasn’t us pushing two chairs together in the back of the café to get closer while we let our drinks get cold to kiss and giggle when people watched us. This wasn’t me ordering your drink for you ten minutes before you arrived because I know your favorite. This wasn’t me getting there late and you being mad, but it’s all made better when I show you the flowers I stopped on my way to get which was the reason for me being late in the first place. This wasn’t us ordering something new, and then end up trading because we liked the other better than the one we had. This wasn’t me writing pages and pages of words that described you in beautiful poetry when I came here alone and thought about you being here. This was a breakup tea break. This is me ordering my own drink and you ordering yours. This is you paying for the bill because I forgot my wallet and pushing you towards the edge because you’re having a bad week. This is us sat at a table we don’t normally sit at; we’re in the middle of the café where everyone can see us. This is you not wanting to hide away with me so we can kiss. This is your smile fading because you know why you invited me here. This is me being confused because I thought it was a normal tea break like we have every week, but realizing very soon you had lost your happiness; or lost your happiness with me. This is you saying, “I’m sorry,” very quietly, almost a whisper. “but this isn’t working.” This is me saying, “I can fix this.” But there isn’t anything to fix. This isn’t a normal tea break. It’s a breakup tea break, and would be the last of us sitting here in this café. You leave with your red lipstick and cardboard teacup, leaving me in the coffee infused building that was too sentimental to get up and leave behind.