Cold Coffee

word count 423

    The table was old oak, scarred from two generations of family dinners and school projects.  Currently it was littered with trash, fast food wrappers, greasy take-out pizza boxes, empty bottles of beer, even half full pints, good ales gone to waste he thought.  An empty bottle of cheap scotch was at one end, amidst half eaten Chinese take-out.  One portion of the table was clean, dusty but clean, there was a single mug on it.

    He sat in a recliner; it had been his father’s day present several years ago, recently stained with beer and pizza spills.  He could see the table in the other room.  She had never let the table get like this, he thought.  Clumsily he brought the can of beer to his lips, and spilled as much down the front of him as he managed to get into his mouth and choke on.  He didn’t understand.

    She’d hit him out of the blue, didn’t love him any longer.  She was going to find herself.  The children were gone, self-sufficient, or almost self sufficient anyway.  The can of beer slowly slipped from his numb fingers, its contents spilling on the floor.  He didn’t care.  He looked at the solitary object on the uncluttered part of the table.

    It stood all alone, his favorite mug.  The kids had made it for him when they were young, two little hands and a baby’s foot imprinted on the gaudily glazed mug, a chip on the rim near the handle, stark white, like dried bone, showing amidst the red, orange, and maroon.  They had been having coffee there when she left.

    She had just said “I don’t love you anymore; I’m tired of going through the motions.  I’ve packed what I need in the car, I’m leaving.  I need some time.”  He’d watched her quietly rise from the table, rinse her cup in the sink, take her keys and walk out the door.  She’d paused at the door and they’d made eye contact.  Her eyes had been dry, emotionless.  She went through the door without a word, and softly closed it behind her.

  He didn’t know how long he sat there, he hadn’t finished his coffee.  Eventually he’d stumbled to the shower, to get ready for work that day.  He’d stared into the coffee all night.  The coffee held no answer or explanation for him however.  The coffee had now been cold for months.  He had not looked into the mug since that night, but he knew there was green stuff floating in it.

word count 423