Flash Fiction 2017Coffee, staining every sweater

Spilled on every other page

“I’m not awake yet,” she jokes, lightly

“A cup of coffee first”

And so the first cup is poured

She holds it between slender fingers

Her grip strong and steady

Her smile almost there

“I’m still asleep,” she says, sheepishly

“no rest and all that”

But she gulps down the first cup

And reaches for the second.

Steam rises from the paper vessel

The milky liquid scalding down her throat

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes

And the lines in her face

Never even

For the shadows that lurk at the corners

Don’t show themselves

In broad daylight

These demons that she fights


At night

The nightmares that drag her under

Tormenting until the break of dawn

First crack of light

First cup of coffee

It’s a ritual,  you see

For some things hold promise

While others are

The idea that she can survive

That the day will not swallow her


Is a daring hope

Dancing just out of reach

So today,

And tomorrow

Perhaps the day after…



And more…


A/N: This one is because I spilled coffee on my sweater. My nice NEW sweater. Ugh. My coffee needed a coffee at this point…

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