The crisp crunch of leaves underfoot and cold November air biting at my cheeks can only mean one thing: writing. It means hot peppermint mochas clutched in freezing hands, warming my fingers enough to begin typing. It means staying in artificially lit coffee shops for hours, until I’ve reached that elusive word count. It means finally letting the story building in my mind flow to the paper in front of me, creating a fictional world shared only with the people I trust most.

In one icy November many years ago, my best friend was an unconventionally beautiful girl called Maria, who always had dark circles under her eyes and even darker coffee in her hands. Maria introduced me to the joy of writing, the joy of sitting across from someone you love and sharing silence while entire novels flow from your fingertips. The endless hours that we spent in that little coffee shop, pouring thoughts into something legible, will always rest in my heart right beside that strange girl herself. Sitting across from this girl, I fell in love. I fell in love with her rich chocolate eyes, and her bitter, coffee stained lips. I fell in love with the way she ordered a tall black coffee after the sun had gone down. I fell in love with the way she would laugh as she wrote and then hand me her earphones and say “Listen to this herd of hippos yelling” because somewhere in her mind was a lurking metaphor that related this awful sound to the noise a bed makes when it creaks. The worst part was that these hippos really did sound like creaking bed springs, in the same way every weird metaphor she came up with just happened to work out. I fell in love with her whole hearted devotion to everything she did; the way she would approach problems with a single goal but an open mind.

I also fell in love with the less innocent things about her. I fell in love with her sharp words before I realized just how cruel they could be when she was hurt, especially by the ones she loved. I fell in love with her iron clad control before I realized that control spreads to the people around her, like insidious vines pulling tight. I fell in love with my heart unknowing of pain, and this strange, beautiful girl taught me what pain truly felt like- taught me with caffeine kisses and a poison tongue.

However, this girl also taught me what it was like to have a warrior on my side, how it felt to have someone come to your rescue with clever retorts and anger destined to protect you, rather than bring you harm. My best friend taught me how to seek help and how to stand strong when there was none forthcoming. 

I fell in love with my best friend under artificial café lights, and when I kissed her she tasted like coffee and peppermint. When we fought, she would write poetry and let her fierce anger form beautiful words. When we laughed, it was like all the lights in the room reflected out of her eyes. When our relationship came to an end, I cried (she didn’t), and many years later our friendship still stays, locked in place by the hours spent in that little café sharing our mutual fictional worlds while the scent of coffee and November cold lingered in the air.