A Short Story : A Story?

Veronica walked into the kitchen, fresh, clean, and free from the dream of earlier. She wore only a casual outfit of jeans and camisole top. No need to dress up if she had the evening off. She brewed a pot of extremely strong coffee and ate a slice of dry toast as she waited. She never was a huge breakfast eater. She saw an open box of cereal with loose cereal pieces on the counter. She rolled her eyes as she cleaned up the mess and put the box away. The open box was one of her biggest pet peeves.

As Deacon throws back a swig of the dark cup of ground beans and steaming water as it awakens and warms his body at the same time. While not usually a coffee drinker, he accepts the cup knowing it will help the night go smoother over dinner, as to not hear about the complaints from his future in-laws due to his turning down the coffee. “Come, sit down and have some supper, I know you’re hankering for some food after your trip” the bright-eyed and silver maned lady whom had expelled his future wife into the world twenty-three years ago said as she laid a warm plate of wafting cured ham, mashed potatoes and green peas. The rest of the family arrives to a seat accompanied by an equivalent plate of eats. As the small-talk that attends a family dinner drones on throughout the corners of the softly lit residence, the energy drains from Deacon’s eyes and body as he performs a magical maneuver and makes the food disappear from his plate in haste. He finishes his pleasant helping of food before the rest of the family as he now watches Annabelle, the woman for which he loves yet continues to cheat on their spoken vows of

A knock on my bedroom door has me out of thoughts. I yell come in and Stanley walks in with a cup of orange juice. He hands me over the juice and sits on the side of the bed watching me closely. I took a sip and roll my eyes.

There was some hustle and bustle in the kitchen that worked as my alarm clock that morning. With a few groans, an extensive stretch, and a yank of my comforter, I rolled out my warm bed and onto the icy hardwood floor. I reached for a sweatshirt in the pile of clothes stacked at the foot of my bed before I sauntered to the kitchen to see what the ruckus was. I was delighted to see four people fixing and drinking their coffee instead of just the usual two! Zach and Garrett had returned home for break the night before and this was the first I had seen of them. Sleepily, I made my way to the closest bar stool where Zach was sitting and wrapped an arm around his neck; “Did you miss me, bubby?,” I joked. In all reality, I was the one who had been waiting for them to finally be home. I sat down adjacent to him, next to my mom, and denied the coffee I was offered like

Jeanne woke to the smell of beans scorching. Carefully, she worked her way from bed and hobbled into the other room. Using a wooden spoon, she stirred the beans, making sure not to scrape the bottom. The room was chilly, and she added another log to the fire. Not taking the time to find a bowl, she ate from the pot, looking around guiltily. If Henri were here, he would have teased her for standing in her bare feet and dirty gown, eating from the kettle. But she was alone.

It was now around 9 o’clock and the morning rush had died down so she began to clean up her little shop. Being the sole owner and employee, she was left to clean and make every drink and pastry alone. She was her own boss and proud of it. Wiping down the coffee grinder, steamer, espresso maker, and everything else that fit just perfectly in her ten by ten space that only had enough room for herself. Suede then remembered she had just gotten a shipment of coffee that morning and went into the back to bring it up front. Her arms stacked with 4 large bags of coffee weighing more than she does in total, struggling to keep a steady hold on them as they were borderline covering her face. As she walks through the doorway she suddenly feels weightless, like every second passing as an hour as she tried to catch her balance but couldn't. After what felt like an eternity she was on the concrete floor with an aching knee surrounded by mountains of coffee beans. She

“I went to get coffee half an hour ago. I love coffee by the way, it is my favourite drink,” I said as he scribbled on his notepad. “When I came back, Mr. Tolen was. . . .”

back first, as there were perishables and then took Norma’s milk around for her. I found her in the kitchen with the tea brewing. “Would you like a cup?” she said when I handed her the milk. “Yes, I’d love a cup,” I replied.

“That cheating bastard!” Amanda Lane angrily flung the newspaper on the dining table. The newspaper hit her coffee mug, which fell on the hardwood floor. The ceramic mug broke spilling the coffee. Amanda watched as the coffee trickled on the floor, making a small river of coffee slowly inching towards the carpet in the living area. She knew she should get up and clean the mess. But she just couldn’t move. Her limbs were frozen.

Sniffing the air and noticed immediately noticed the lack of the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, which always filled his mother’s house early in the morning. Why would she over-sleep knowing he took off from work, he said, “The least Mom could have done was have coffee ready. Guess I should have called before I left home, the next time, I will.”

‘Coffee,’ her mind beckoned, urging her to slip from the bed and tip toe into the kitchen. Her body needed the sweet relief the caffeine would bring. As far as habits go, drinking coffee every morning was certainly not the worst she could do. In no time at all, the machine barely made a sound as the blue light around the silver button let her know the aroma of coffee would soon fill the air. Yawning, she stretched before noticing the list on the refrigerator. As the first drops hit the glass pot, she pulled it from the magnet holding it into place. ‘Hmmmm. Let’s see. Flour, eggs, milk, sugar.’ Amy smiled. ‘Two cakes in one week. He’s going to become spoiled. I’ll just double up and make the same cake for his birthday that I’m making for the block party this weekend. Bailey needs to go to the doctor this week as well.’ She

Eagerly Ellie gets up and heads downstairs, ready to begin the new day. Last night she noticed a coffeemaker on the counter and a cup of coffee sounded nice. Reaching into the cupboard, she pauses, surprised, the coffee isn’t there. She distinctly recalls putting the coffee in this cupboard! Ellie starts opening cupboards, looking for the coffee; none of her groceries are where she remembers putting them. It’s possible she could be wrong, she was really tired.

Well, after he does that, my coffees cold…” She so nonchalantly states that a prisoner who escaped came into her house and raped her! Not only that, but the only thing she is worried about is that her coffee is now cold.

Camille Madison woke early in anticipation of the changes the day would bring. She brewed a pot of her favorite French Vanilla flavored coffee and took her first cup out on the terrace. When she purchased this condo several years ago it had been the terrace that she had fallen in love with. The white café table and chairs that adorned this favorite place of solace had been the first furniture purchased; the bedroom ensemble second. The living room and combination dining areas filled up with plush furnishings as well. The condo now reflected the independent yet totally feminine head nurse of the largest ER in Los Angeles County. She lifted the steaming cup and breathed in the aroma before taking a sip and tasting the strong coffee beans laced with the sweet nectar of vanilla. Her eyes closed in appreciation as she took another sip.

The guitar strummed quietly in the background; setting the atmosphere perfectly. The sound of clinking plates sounded though the café as idle chatter filled the small space. The smell of coffee was inescapable; making her smile as she ordered her drink. She slipped her hands in her pockets and headed towards the vacant couch located in the corner of the cafe. She picked up the magazine in front of her. Her small hands struggled to keep the slippery magazine in her grip as she noticed it had a spill of water over it. She sighed, wiping her hands on her jeans. "Claire." The waiter politely announced, gaining her attention. They placed the ceramic mug in front of her and she wrapped her cold hands around the steaming hot drink.