Another attempt at a shortish story.
Sitting with his head bowed down, he could see her shoes, through the glass table. The heel of the right shoe had worn off unevenly on one side. A reflection of her unsteady walk, his vagrant observation reasoned with his conscious thoughts.
She looked straight ahead into emptiness. Emptiness, in this case, consisted of unknown people at the crowded coffee shop. She had chosen to sit next to him, so she didn't have to look at him in the face. He didn't have to look at her either, but he chose to steal glances, and occasionally, held the gaze out of greed. From the corner of her curious eye she could sense him trying to understand her blank expression.
She, the stoic. The emotionless fool. The one who had nothing to lose.
How do you ever talk to such a person? They thought to themselves in a rare moment of resonant thought.
She fidgeted with her spoon in an attempt to distract herself. Picked up a grain of sugar, and put it in her mouth, perhaps to add flavour to her bitterness. In symbolic protest, he let out a sigh and fidgeted with the silence.
For with all the comfortable private moment of togetherness, they had two more people sitting at the table, a pair of twins, identical yet fraternal. One looking at him in the face, one looking at her. And do you know who they were? Those two were the embodiment of their past - one his version, and one hers.
And there was no use reconciling.
The moment culminated....
And there was no going back....