A cup of coffee

Ah, Soren stared out of the plane window—the London skyline emerging slowly, a jagged smear of gray that punctured the cloud cover like an afterthought. The city sprawled beneath him, vast, indifferent, and full of that peculiar mix of dread and anticipation that gnawed at him as it always did. London—where ambition had once sparked like a live wire between him and Viktor, his old friend, mentor, and co-conspirator in the early days of cloud computing. That was back when the future had seemed malleable, as if they could simply shape it to their whims. But years had rolled by, and that future had hardened into something else, leaving Viktor to rise while Soren drifted.

This wasn’t a casual reunion. No, this visit had a purpose. Soren wasn’t flying halfway across the globe just to reminisce about late-night coding sessions or their first big break. He was here to pitch a business idea, something he desperately needed more than he cared to admit. He wanted to reignite the friendship, yes, but more than that, he wanted to pull himself from the mire of freelance obscurity. He wanted Viktor’s help, wanted to stand in the same light he’d once occupied, and claim—if not glory—then at least relevance.

Viktor’s office was perched high in a sleek London skyscraper, the kind of building that felt like an expensive sneer at anyone still trapped on the ground. The reception was all glass, chrome, and marble—a kind of antiseptic luxury that felt alien to Soren as he adjusted his jacket, still faintly smelling of cheap air travel. Too early. Of course, he was. The receptionist smiled mechanically, a perfect cog in this perfectly oiled machine, and waved him toward the lounge, telling him Viktor would be down soon.

The wait dragged like thick, heavy minutes through quicksand, his mind turning over the pitch he’d rehearsed endlessly. The idea was good—solid, even. He just needed Viktor to see it. After all, Viktor knew him, knew his strengths. Surely that had to count for something.

"Soren! Long time, mate!" Viktor’s voice hit the air like a missile, shattering Soren’s thoughts. He turned and there he was—Viktor, all sleek, groomed success, his hand extended, his grin wide. Trim, tanned, and brimming with the effortless confidence that only real power affords. His wrist gleamed with the kind of watch that didn’t need to be flashy; it whispered success just fine. Soren took his hand, the grip solid, though he could already feel the shift—Viktor had grown into a different beast entirely.

“Viktor,” Soren said, forcing a smile. “It’s been too long.”

“Too long! Let’s grab a coffee, yeah? I’ve got about an hour.”

An hour. The words hit Soren with a sting he couldn’t quite hide. He had come all this way for one hour. But, he nodded. What else could he do? He followed Viktor to a pristine little café tucked into the corner of the office like an afterthought, the view from its windows a glittering expanse of London that should have inspired awe but felt hollow.

The barista slid them two coffees, and they settled by the window. Viktor took a sip, glanced at his phone, and then leaned back. “So, tell me—what’s Brisbane like? What’s new with you?”

Soren forced himself to stay casual, though every nerve screamed to skip the pleasantries and dive into the real reason he was here. “Brisbane’s been good,” he said lightly, though the lie sat uneasily on his tongue. “I’ve been consulting, mostly. Cloud infrastructure stuff. The market’s been shifting fast, and I’ve been working on something I think you’d be interested in.”

Viktor’s brow lifted slightly. Here it is, Soren thought. He leaned in, words carefully measured. “With hybrid systems becoming the norm, there’s a real gap for mid-sized businesses. They can’t afford the full enterprise solutions, but they need something more efficient than what’s out there. I’ve developed a framework for optimizing costs and performance. I thought maybe we could partner on something small—a pilot, see how it goes…”

Viktor put his cup down with the soft clink of finality. He shook his head slightly, the smile never wavering. “Soren, I appreciate it. I really do. But we’re in a different place now. The stuff you’re talking about… it’s not where we’re focusing. We’ve moved toward bigger enterprise projects, automation, AI integrations. It’s the next big thing, you know? We’re chasing that.”

The words landed heavy, each syllable driving home the widening chasm between them. Soren had expected resistance, sure, but the casual dismissal, the way Viktor slid his dreams off the table like they were crumbs, hurt in ways he wasn’t prepared for.

Still, he wasn’t ready to give up. “I get that,” Soren said, his voice tight. “But what about a partnership? I mean, even if it’s something small—”

Viktor cut him off again, shaking his head, more firmly this time. “It’s just not where we’re headed, mate. I wish I could help, but we’ve got our sights set elsewhere.”

And just like that, it was over. Viktor took another sip of his coffee, already looking past Soren toward the next meeting, the next deal, the next opportunity. Soren could feel the invisible walls closing in, could hear the finality in Viktor’s tone, and knew there was no salvaging this. He nodded, forced a smile.

“I understand,” Soren said, though it was a lie. He didn’t understand at all. But he couldn’t afford to let that show. He stood, and they shook hands again. Viktor’s smile was wide and warm, but the connection was gone, if it had ever been there to begin with.

“Good to see you, mate,” Viktor said, already half turned away. “Let’s not wait so long next time.”

“Yeah,” Soren said, the word hollow and weightless. He sat for a while after Viktor left, staring out at the city buzzing below, the cold cup of coffee in front of him like a relic of some past life. This trip had been a gamble, one he had hoped might reignite both his career and his old friendship. Instead, all he had found was that the past had slipped further away than he had ever imagined.

He stood slowly, leaving the half-drunk cup behind. London went on without him, indifferent to his small defeat. Outside, the city’s pulse thrummed with life, and Soren, feeling like a man returned from exile, walked into its endless, anonymous sprawl.