Garry Johnson III

Concepts of a Plan

ऐसा ही हो। 🫱🏿‍🫲🏼
📸:
📍: Festival

The espresso martini sat still in his hand, cold yet comforting, just like the memory of her.

The night was quiet, save for the soft jazz humming in the background, but inside his chest raged the kind of silence only heartbreak could craft.

He had met her on an ordinary Tuesday. The kind of day when the sky was just grey enough to suggest rain but not bold enough to follow through. She walked into his life like light through the clouds; unexpected, warm, and healing. They met over coffee, and it was like his soul recognized hers. Not just her laugh, but the way she tilted her head when she was curious. The way she always added a pinch of cinnamon to her cup. The way she looked him in the eye when she asked about his dreams.

And he told her everything.

About his vision for , about creating generational wealth, about his grandfather’s old vinyls, his mother’s quiet strength, and his own fears of failing before it all began. She listened like it all mattered. And for a while, it felt like she was part of the dream itself.

They went hiking one weekend, her idea. She wore a deep green jacket and hummed a tune he still hears in the wind sometimes. At the top of the trail, she turned to him and said, “Don’t forget this moment. Even if everything changes.”

He didn’t.
And everything did.

She grew distant slowly. Texts shorter, laughter less often, presence fading like morning mist. And one day, without warning, she was gone. Left him for someone else. A story that didn’t include him.

He didn’t chase her. He couldn’t. Not because he didn’t want her back, but because he knew that her leaving was not his fault. Some people love you only for the version of themselves they are in your presence. When they grow, they leave, not always out of malice, but necessity.

But tonight, as he sat in his suit with the black leather gloves she once teased him about, holding the espresso martini they always split, he whispered a toast to no one in particular:

“To the love that reminded me I could feel again. To the one who walked me back to myself. To her.”

And for the first time in a long time, he smiled.

Experience “Love & Coffee” in every sip of 1867. 🍸