Coffee beans in a coffee cup

I am a coffee bean, not a coffee bean, because I am now in a dark airtight bottle, mixed with countless similar granular coffee beans, do not know where I am, let alone where he is.

Before turning into powder, I was a beautiful coffee bean, growing on the coffee trees of Cuba, endless grasslands, high and low shrubs and grasses, as well as patches of coffee trees, high and distant sky, clear and blue, lots of brilliant sunshine sprinkled on every corner of the prairie, where is a paradise for all kinds of animals and plants.

In the distance, the antelope is running unscrupulously, the hippopotamus is singing happily in the pond, nearby, insects are playing the sound of nature in the grass, the wind agrees, I am intoxicated in the tall coffee tree, and I am intoxicated with another handsome coffee bean, he is my sweetheart.

We grew up on the same branch, bathed in the same sun, breathed the same clean air, and walked together from the budding brightness to the fruitful season.

When the flowers bloom, they are swaying with the wind, the jasmine-like white flowers are delicate and beautiful, the love between each other is fragrant, and the prairie is affectionate because of our love.

Flowers bloom, in a cold rainy day, we bear a small fruit, only a small green, but enough noise in the rain of sadness. We laugh against the rain, how far the fog on the prairie extends, how far our laughter goes, and our happiness and satisfaction spiral from the heart of the prairie like meandering water.

The fruit grew from small to big, from childish green to bright red, and my love with him matured day by day. Smelling the diffuse fragrance of each other, listening to the sprouting of all kinds of life on the prairie, watching the sun rising slowly from the east, the morning glow burning like fire every day, and then watching it fall a little bit on the western horizon, feeling the cool fog coming from all directions. Everywhere.

Our love dotted the coffee trees and the prairie.

On a bright morning, a pair of hands plucked us from the branches, lost the warmth of home, and was squeezed among the overlapping species, and we began to fear that what fate would be waiting for us?

Fortunately, because of the crowding, the original gap between him and me disappeared, and the epidermis was close to the epidermis, feeling the frequency of his breathing and the warmth of the skin rubbing against each other. Slowly, in each other's affectionate gaze, we forget our fear, we no longer tremble, he has me in his eyes, he has him in my eyes, if what is waiting in front must be bad luck, as long as I am with him, I will not be afraid, as long as he holds my hand, even if it is an irreparable abyss, I can jump fearlessly.

After a long bumpy journey, thousands of coffee beans were poured into a huge pool, washed by the current, covered with dust, revealing charming and bright red clothes, and the whole pool was filled with the fragrance of ripe coffee beans.

He looked at me, staring at me, my shyness, my beauty, lit the fire in his eyes, how much love, how much pity, inexplicable, unknown, at that moment, prayed for time to stagnate, longing for life to never be separated from him.

Obsessed with each other's breath, accompany each other all the way, those who have true love are not lonely, not timid, we are closely dependent on each other and move towards the unpredictable future.

I thought he would accompany me like this all the way. Even if it is a road to death, as long as he is accompanied, what is the fear?

So when we are in the Cuban sun, we hold each other's hands and smile, do not care that life has shrunk with a little bit of evaporated water, when the cruel heat in the iron pot baked us to the skin; when all kinds of spices make us dying, we do not cry, our hands are still clenched, we are glad to have love tenaciously supporting us.

Youth is no longer, elegant demeanor is no longer. On the Sansheng stone, the dream is still there.

But such a dream is broken, in a roaring machine, his body, my body, his dream, my dream, everything is shattered.

At the moment of being shattered, I suddenly heard his mournful call, from far to near, penetrating the flesh-and-blood soul, like a flash of lightning, hitting my residual consciousness. I could not help but shake, and the spirit that had disappeared gradually gathered together again, but the call was far away and scattered, and I could no longer feel him, unable to feel myself. Before I fainted, his warm smile flashed before my eyes.

I do not know how long, woke up from the darkness, found that he was packed in this airtight bottle, is no longer a complete and beautiful coffee bean, but into a tiny powder, lack of weight, light and strange.

There is no figure of him around, and there are granulated coffee like me all around. Where is he? Heartache, want to cry without tears, the despair of losing him is more than the sorrow of being broken to pieces.

Day after day, in the lifeless bottle, I live hard, and the memory of the prairie is the only reason for me to survive. Whenever he can't hold on, he says to himself: he must go through the same torture somewhere, and he must clench his teeth and look forward to the reunion. Will he forgive me if I give up? Can I be reconciled?

So his eyes, his warmth, began to wrap my scarred body; his love, his connivance, always infiltrated my incomplete faith.

On this day, the lid of the bottle was suddenly opened and a strong light came in, disturbing the silence in the bottle.

In a panic, many coffee particles and I were scooped up by a silver spoon and put into another more delicate cup. There was no time to think. A stream of hot water came head on. With a sizzling sound, the heaven and earth whirled and the prairie fell apart. His shadow swung away like ripples.

The mellow smell of coffee was everywhere, and in the haze, he was close to me, his face was against my face, his hand was holding my hand, he was talking, just by his ear, he said gently that he had been waiting for me, and now he finally arrived. He said, in the hot water, he and I have become one, from now on, we will no longer be separated.

Tears rustled down, his and mine.

That bitter persistent taste dissolved in the coffee, who drank, whose mood is also like me. My name is Cubita.

China Coffee Trading Network: www.gafei.com