Illustration by Börkur Sigurbjörnsson
By the coffee machine I met a man. We nodded our heads as to acknowledge each other’s existence. We had ran into one another quite regularly over the past couple of weeks and always greeted with a nod.
I knew I had spoken to this man at some point. However, I could not for the love of an atheist superhuman remember where it had taken place, when, or who the man was.
We stared at the ceiling in an awkward silence while the machine poured hot black liquid into his cup.
“Goodbye,” he said when his cup was full.
“Goodbye,” I replied, placing my cup under the faucet and pressing the espresso button.