Categories > Original > Drama > Cup of Coffee
Cup of Coffee
0 reviewsONE-SHOT A woman over a cup of coffee musing about a man who isn't coming.
0Unrated
Authoress' Note: Another little pointless one-shot that I seem to enjoy posting a lot. Anyway, this one was down for a picture by an artist (H- something) of a women sitting in a cafe over a cup of coffee. This is super short, but I still love feedback, maybe on how to make it longer. Reviews are appreciated as always, and please enjoy.
I swirled my lonely cup of coffee considering the ripples and waves. It had been some time since it had cooled, yet I still sat spinning my cup in consistent circles, forming whirlpools of caffeine. I didn't even like decaf, I mused. But I was still sitting here with a cup worth ninety cents and five minutes of my time. It had not touched my lips.
People do not usually come to cafés in the evenings to buy a "cup of joe". But I was here when no one else was. It was fitting that here I would put it to rest, the place I had come to know as the one place he frequented.
Yet I was here and he was not. I should have expected it, known it would happen. But the loneliness was still there, a small part of my hope weighed down by the stones of reality. He had not come, and he would not.
I leaned over my little cup, trying to catch the last wisps of the fading aroma. It was like a child reaching for a butterfly - always a little past their outstretched fingers. He was not coming back, and I knew there was nothing I could do about it. I was near-frozen in that wooden chair and the strange notion that I should head home to warm up seemed incapable of lifting me from my seat. I could not push myself to move.
It was tiring to admit defeat, to give in and realize how wrong you were. It is easier to ignore what is in front of you, then to realize it is there. I stared into my cup of coffee in a trance, a weary mind taking a little nap.
Numbing wind violently blew into the shop upsetting the perfectly balanced surface and shaking all the liquid inside. My hair whipped around with the force as the caffeine quaked and shook, but as the wind passed it slowed. Tremulous waves became currents becoming ripples until the storm had settled and the surface became smooth again.
I stood up; brushing my shoulders as though patting down ruffled feathers, and abandoned that cold cup. Brisk weather did not deter me as I crossed the street, bare legs chilled from the snow's caress. I peeked back at the lit café. My cup of lonely coffee still sat, waiting for a man who would never come.
I pushed my shoulders back a bit, proud that I would not wait for another storm. I walked down that street with the dignity of a woman back on her feet.
I swirled my lonely cup of coffee considering the ripples and waves. It had been some time since it had cooled, yet I still sat spinning my cup in consistent circles, forming whirlpools of caffeine. I didn't even like decaf, I mused. But I was still sitting here with a cup worth ninety cents and five minutes of my time. It had not touched my lips.
People do not usually come to cafés in the evenings to buy a "cup of joe". But I was here when no one else was. It was fitting that here I would put it to rest, the place I had come to know as the one place he frequented.
Yet I was here and he was not. I should have expected it, known it would happen. But the loneliness was still there, a small part of my hope weighed down by the stones of reality. He had not come, and he would not.
I leaned over my little cup, trying to catch the last wisps of the fading aroma. It was like a child reaching for a butterfly - always a little past their outstretched fingers. He was not coming back, and I knew there was nothing I could do about it. I was near-frozen in that wooden chair and the strange notion that I should head home to warm up seemed incapable of lifting me from my seat. I could not push myself to move.
It was tiring to admit defeat, to give in and realize how wrong you were. It is easier to ignore what is in front of you, then to realize it is there. I stared into my cup of coffee in a trance, a weary mind taking a little nap.
Numbing wind violently blew into the shop upsetting the perfectly balanced surface and shaking all the liquid inside. My hair whipped around with the force as the caffeine quaked and shook, but as the wind passed it slowed. Tremulous waves became currents becoming ripples until the storm had settled and the surface became smooth again.
I stood up; brushing my shoulders as though patting down ruffled feathers, and abandoned that cold cup. Brisk weather did not deter me as I crossed the street, bare legs chilled from the snow's caress. I peeked back at the lit café. My cup of lonely coffee still sat, waiting for a man who would never come.
I pushed my shoulders back a bit, proud that I would not wait for another storm. I walked down that street with the dignity of a woman back on her feet.
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