Make mine a mocha, please

It feels like an illicit rendezvous when we meet for a few stolen moments in the downtown coffee shop. I'm supposed to be working, he's supposed to be at school, studying for a test or finishing up homework. But for a few moments, the rest of the world disappears. No kids. No bills. No work. No time limits. Nothing but the two of us, sipping coffee, eating bagels, just chatting about little things, nonconsequential things that are the minutae of our lives. The things that make us who we are. We share them like a pair of lovers, sneaking in a quick meeting because we can't stand to be apart for any longer. Can't wait to feel the warmth of a hand on a waist, our fingers touching, the meeting of our lips oh, so briefly before we part again to go our separate ways, the separate places the other isn't a part of. Briefly mingling those separate lives in a few shared minutes.

These cups of coffee and touches, our thoughts and words, are sometimes better than any evening out together, for dinner and a movie. We are focused just on each other, if only for the time it takes to finish a cup of coffee, and these are the moments I've come to cherish. We spend so much time with the running of our lives, the managing of the household, raising the kids and keeping our jobs that the few minutes we sneak in for each other, no matter how short, mean the world to me.