Of Blue and Coffee Shop Stories

I sat quietly and alone in a coffee show on J and 16th, sipping at the steaming cup in front of me. There was a man in the corner whose face was aged but full of wisdom. I sat beside him and looked in his eyes. The milky white corroded his vision, but he knew i was there. He started to describe to me the colour blue. He said, although he had never seen a shape or shade of anything, that blue was the calm of trickling water. Blue had the smile of the sunset and a waterfall of smooth, chocolate hair. He described flawless and porcelain skin. Blue was the image of perfection. Blue is the colour of her eyes. Blue was my feeling as she walked away from me. Then he said that, if i ever have the chance, to find her and never let her slip away again. I will find her, thank you for the courage. Then i quietly slipped away as a toothy smiled parted his lips.