You are awake. You make it, somehow, to the coffee pot. You know the routine. It doesn’t change. Do you fill the filter or pour the water first? It doesn’t matter, really. As long as your wait for the coffee is minimal, as long as the kids don’t wake up before the brewer cackles to a finish. No kids? Your spouse then, your pet. If you are alone, then beware the awakening of something more evil still: your thoughts.
Cream? Sugar? Black as the void from which you surfaced with a gasp and back to which you return in intervals of mornings spent in agony?
Enjoy the coffee. Today, I am merely here to remind you that you have awakened closer to the end. In all your years of living, you have never been more dear to death than you are now.
By C. M. Bartolomeo, ©2018 Silent Motorist Media