A story describing our coffee and our appreciation for the Women of South Africa during Woman’s MONTH.

Perched on a barstool, attached to a trendy coffee bar, he was wondering what to write in the coffee-stained card on the counter.

“Happy Woman’s Day” sounded so despondently grey. She was more than that; he thought while savouring the flavour of the medium roast he’d ordered.

She was not like women were “supposed” to be; she was like women are. She was just a girl, not a movie star. A girl with nutty brown hair and cinnamon eyes, she had a fresh, earthy look to her like the smooth brown rocks along the shoreline at low tide. Sometimes she was dark, like those few seconds just before the movie starts; and then she would smile and light up the room. He couldn’t quite fathom her moods; she would seem severely upset and extremely calm at the same time, it was like watching the fall leaves thrashing about in a winter storm from behind a plateglass window.

He should write how he loves her, he thought, how he loved her like a sad song. How he loved the way she wrapped her arms around the world and everyone she loved.

But … , he thought; he was no writer, and he had nothing much to say.

He picked up the pen and scribbled …

“Happy Women’s Day, with all my love.”