Today I poured cold water on my coffee before hot, and it made me think of you.
It stops it burning, you told me. You had lots of tips like this: chill glasses before white wine, sweat onions slowly.
‘These things take time,’ you said.
Like leaving your wife, I suppose. I believe that’s still in progress.
Brown floaters rose to the top of the cup and wouldn’t dissolve however much I stirred. The romance was short-lived. I poured it down the sink.