Fast Fiction Challenge: Thursday Morning Coffee
Title: Thursday Morning Coffee
Word: beans
Challenger: abbie
Length: 200 words exactly He stood outside, enjoying the morning breeze. He lifted the large mug to his mouth, sipping the hot black coffee, tasting the slight bitterness. He remembered how she’d loved to make him coffee from Columbian beans. Not this morning though; this was instant - too much to do.
As the sun rose above the horizon, the sky slowly brightened; she’d always loved this shade of colour, and he’d grown in time to similarly take pleasure in it. Ten years to turn him from a ‘city lad’ into someone who took genuine pleasure from the country and now, thirty years of life away from the city.
The job, the excitement, the office politics; all of it seemed so far in the past, before the delight of her.
He drained the cup and walked back inside, remembering the joy of the past three decades with her. He rinsed the cup, knowing she’d have been angry with it left unwashed.
She’d died peacefully, as peacefully as she’d lived her life. Two hours, and it already seemed so long ago.
He felt his stomach cramp, the first sign.
Then he lay on the bed next to his wife, and waited for the poison to work.
© Lee Barnett, 2006
Word: beans
Challenger: abbie
Length: 200 words exactly He stood outside, enjoying the morning breeze. He lifted the large mug to his mouth, sipping the hot black coffee, tasting the slight bitterness. He remembered how she’d loved to make him coffee from Columbian beans. Not this morning though; this was instant - too much to do.
As the sun rose above the horizon, the sky slowly brightened; she’d always loved this shade of colour, and he’d grown in time to similarly take pleasure in it. Ten years to turn him from a ‘city lad’ into someone who took genuine pleasure from the country and now, thirty years of life away from the city.
The job, the excitement, the office politics; all of it seemed so far in the past, before the delight of her.
He drained the cup and walked back inside, remembering the joy of the past three decades with her. He rinsed the cup, knowing she’d have been angry with it left unwashed.
She’d died peacefully, as peacefully as she’d lived her life. Two hours, and it already seemed so long ago.
He felt his stomach cramp, the first sign.
Then he lay on the bed next to his wife, and waited for the poison to work.
© Lee Barnett, 2006