Dreaming of The South

I never knew it was possible to miss a place as much as I do tonight. The drawl of two ladies chatting away in the corner of this coffee shop tugs at my heart in a way I can’t even put into words, and before I know it tears are tumbling down eyes remembering an ocean scene on a stormy, summer day. I find myself crestfallen when my attempts of conversation at the checkout counter are met with uninterested, empty answers and the clicking of a lady’s heel behind me in impatience. Listing the things that make that place a home would be hollow, I’m afraid. So I’ll sit here sipping a latte as the snow falls outside the window and people rush about with their eyes on the ground–picturing that sweet, lazy summer breeze drifting across my bare legs as the sucrose and rich tea flood my mouth.