
Linda takes it black. The way I used to when I was twenty-something and indestructible. Now it’s cream and sugar for the old man, whose stomach can’t stand black anymore.
The old can is on the first shelf, right under my hand as I open the cabinet. Haven’t bought a can of coffee in three years, just foil bags to refill the old can. Three big scoops in the filter, a pot of water in the maker.
Linda doesn’t speak, of course, but her silences scream out in the early morning hours, drowning the gurgle of the coffee maker. I pour my cup, splashing black coffee into the crystalline sludge I’ve piled on the bottom. Sweet as the devil’s kiss, pale as milk.
I drain my solitary cup, leaving only the bitter dregs, three years cold, for Linda.
My morning ritual, complete.
Michael D. Turner’s writings have graced the pages of Aberrant Dreams, Amazing Journeys, Alienskin, Between Kisses, Continuum SF, Every Day Fiction, Tales of the Talisman and a variety of anthologies. He is an associate editor of the new Flashing Swords e-zine.
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8 Responses to “MORNING COFFEE • by Michael D. Turner”
Comments
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January 12th, 2008 at 4:28 am
Short but powerful story.
January 12th, 2008 at 8:05 am
Vivid. And sad.
January 12th, 2008 at 9:56 am
Michael-
This story damn near broke my heart. One, because it was so sad, and two, because I didn’t write it myself.
-Nik
January 12th, 2008 at 11:46 am
I really liked this. Sad and sweet.
January 12th, 2008 at 11:52 am
Scary! I think I know these two people.
January 12th, 2008 at 12:55 pm
People? Isn’t Linda his dog?
Nice short, Mike.
January 16th, 2008 at 9:50 am
Is Linda still at the table? Yikes! Somebody call the undertaker! I liked the story – well written and evocative – but I didn’t think it sad, it was just plain scary. Good job.
January 21st, 2008 at 9:07 am
I guess Linda is someone, or something, missing in his life? I liked how “her silences scream out… drowning the gurgle of the coffee maker.”