The Sip Before I Said It
The Sip Before I Said It The city honked and howled beneath us, but on the foot-over bridge, it was just Diya and me — quiet, almost untouched. The traffic looked like a movie scene running 10x in slow motion. From the bridge, under the dark night sky, the lonely moon shone brightly upon the little stars on the roads. Somehow everything felt different that day, more beautiful than usual. We got down the bridge and walked towards Third Wave Coffee. The place was bustling with people as always. The outdoor ambience was cool with trees and fountains. We were busy chatting about work and only paid attention to the obstacles on our way to Third Wave Coffee. I opened the door for her, and a strong gust of air from the air curtain hit me. We went inside, and luckily there were only a few people. The place was calm, with the scent of coffee lingering in the air. She looked simple and unbothered — in a light shirt top, black track and those little jhumkas she always wore like a signat...