Coffee in The Morning
Something still there, something lost, and something gotten.
A short story written under a writing prompt from Anisha Shah: The taste of coffee on a cold winter morning.
“The coffee machine is broken.”
I snapped awake upon hearing that. Daniel loomed over me, his face was a mix of annoyance, bewilderment, and a bit of confusion. It took a while for my brain to fully process that statement. And when it finally sunk in, I probably mirrored Daniel’s expression.
Now, let me take you back in time for a while. Long story short, Daniel and I were a couple. Yes, “were”. The reason for our breakup was simple: we spent too much time with each other. We eagerly rushed into every chance to discover every last detail about each other, hoping with every piece of information that the other was “the one”. Then, time ran out. All the information that used to bring us joy and bind us together became the cause of our fights.
That was when we decided to break up. There was nothing left to discover or to love. All that remained was a gaping hole in our chest, screaming that everything was not enough.
We officially parted ways about 6 months ago. We divided our belongings, ready to part. But there was the coffee machine. My dad had given it to me, and Daniel cherished it like his child. We didn’t know who it should belong to. That was when everything halted. We kept sharing the apartment, like floormates, with the coffee maker as the only bond left.
And today, it was broken.
We sat at the coffee table, staring at the broken machine. Looking closely, you’d realize how old it was. The paint was peeling, the once-shiny logo was now rusty, and the handle gave you enough of a gym experience. It was like an old dog only lying around in the house, but everyone loved to pet it.
“So, what now?” Daniel asked first.
Good question. What now? Frankly, I didn’t know. It’s not that I hadn’t imagined the coffee maker breaking. But when it happened, I suddenly realized I hadn’t prepared enough, especially on a miserable cold winter day with hardly any sunlight like today. Right now, there was only one thing on my mind:
“I need some coffee.” I said it out loud, with more annoyance than I intended.
Then, Daniel laughed. Not a reaction I expected, but it’s fine. Better than being angry or depressed. Still, I asked.
“Why are you laughing?”
“You hate coffee, Jean.”
“No, I don’t.” I instinctively defended. “Why do you think that?”
“You usually made a face when I made coffee in the morning. Why change today?”
He had a point. I couldn’t stand the coffee scent, as it reminded me of the nightmare internship when I relied solely on coffee to keep me running from day to night. However, today was different. I needed coffee now. So, I stood up, tied my hair into a ponytail, and looked back at Daniel.
“No reason. Do you want to come with me or stay here?”
Daniel stared back at the broken coffee maker. For one second, I thought he would say no, but then, he scratched his head and stood up.
“Let’s go!”
Walking with Daniel felt awkward. It’s like being invited to a friend’s party and finding that everyone there is a stranger. It was supposed to be fun, but it wasn’t anymore. Daniel used to explore all cafes around, trying their coffees, and jotting down his thoughts in his notebook. I sometimes tagged along, offering my comments about other drinks. I laughed when he got bad coffee, and he laughed when there were no other choices besides coffee.
“We’ve arrived, Jean.”
Daniel said, breaking through my thoughts. I looked up and saw the cafe in front of me. It was a small, wooden place, more like a hut than a coffee shop. The entrance, a massive red steel door, contrasted with the entire building. Above the door was a small sign with the word “Hello” carved onto it. Not the warmest welcome, but it worked for now.
Perhaps because the red door looked a bit intimidating, the inside was quite empty. The menu was short, with different kinds of coffee taking up the majority. Daniel smirked a bit when I flipped the menu out of habit to see other choices besides coffee.
I lightly elbowed his waist, looking back at the menu. I didn’t know much about coffee, but thanks to Daniel, I could still differentiate basic types. In the end, we ordered a latte and a mocha.
We settled at a table near the window. There was no snow now, but the sky was dark and gray. Little sunlight managed to escape the clouds, attempting to reach the ground but fading away before succeeding. The cold seemed to slip through the window, slide into my coat, and wrap around my body, threatening the little warmth from the cafe.
The owner brought the coffee to our table, a privilege of empty cafes. Daniel exchanged a few words with him; they seemed to be friendlier than just the owner and a casual customer. So, after the owner left, I asked Daniel.
“Do you usually come here?”
“Not that much. I found this cafe in March, maybe. After that, you know.”
Yes, I knew. Someone said “March comes like a lion”, and I agreed with him. March was chaotic; one day we thought we were made for each other and turned into arch-enemies the next day. I didn’t remember the exact day, as there were many fights during that time. But maybe, one day, Daniel went out and found this cafe.
While I was thinking, Daniel continued talking, “I was first curious about the entrance door, so I kept coming back. One day, I asked James,” he gestured to the owner, “and he said that he built it to challenge the customers a bit.”
“Challenge the customers?”
“Yeah. Not everything should be easy, some should remain challenging. Otherwise, there is no point in overcoming it. Those were his words.”
I took a sip of my latte while listening to Daniel. Although I added more sugar and milk, the coffee still managed to make my stomach churn. That was obvious, this kind of thing wouldn’t change just because you wanted it to. Even if your coffee machine broke. One broken piece wouldn’t change anything. What comes will come, just like coffee was supposed to make me feel queasy.
“Hey, Dan.” I said, the word feeling oddly unfamiliar on my tongue. “What’s your plan now?”
Today, we chatted more than we had in a whole month, but only now did it feel like a genuine conversation. Daniel looked at me, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as if the words about to escape him held the key to his future.
“For today, I’ll move out from the apartment. Everything is all set, so I’ll have it done before you get home. After that, who knows? I’ll rent a place, work my things, and, well, move on.” He said slowly. “Honestly, it hasn’t fully sunk in for me. I mean, I knew it was coming. But when it does happen, it just feels weird. Unreal. A tiny bit of me still wonders if, by some chance, the coffee machine will go back to normal when we return home.”
He had a point. A part of me yearned to go back to regular days, with the fully functional coffee machine. But the rest, the larger part, told the harsh reality that what’s lost is lost. And we were already here, in a coffee shop that served as a transient point everyone dreaded passing through.
“But it won’t, right?” My phone beeped, signaling it was time to head to work. Time to return to reality.
“Yeah, it won’t.” Daniel nodded, sipping his coffee and breaking eye contact.
“I’ve got to go now. But…” I hesitated, thinking whether I should say it. “Thanks for teaching me about coffee.”
With that, I left the cafe and returned to the routine of everyday work. Upon arriving home, there was no trace of Daniel or the broken coffee machine. However, on the living room table sat a new coffee machine with a stick note that read, “Try to love coffee one day.”
