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It’s been a couple of weeks since I posted here, and I’m running out of hours to get this one done before midnight, and the closing of the linky list.
I needed the time off to regain my bearings after the recent US Presidential election. I had other hopes for the results…but that’s a story for another post. Or maybe a series of posts….
“Monday Morning Coffee” is a story that’s been with me longer than my oldest child has. It began, in its earliest form, when I was only sixteen, and a compelling local event fired my sense of empathy and imagination, together. A teenaged boy with schizophrenia wandered away from his family at a large outdoor event, and, several days later, was found, deceased.
From that story came this one – the connection might not be clear to anyone but me – but it’s there.
Someone’s Watching Me
I hunch over my cup, tabbing open the seal. This new Monday finally offers the first ticklings of pleasure and comfort as I enact my morning ritual. I bring the mug closer to my face, sniffing and tasting the sweet-smelling steam - goodness and warmth on this otherwise dreary day. I peer around, self-conscious as always of being noticed or laughed at. This is an intimate communion.
Someone's watching me - a hulking, burly man, sitting alone on a bench about ten feet away, beside a garbage can that seems to always be overflowing at exactly the same level.
Unease shivers past my snug raised hood, icy fingers traveling the length of my spine. The cog of my routine sticks, refusing to click over to the next tooth, the next action. I can't take the first sip.
Who is this woman?
Why is she being watched?
Is this man dangerous?
What does she do?
Are you interested in her story?
Come back next week and learn more!
“Monday Morning Coffee” was originally published in the 2015 edition of World Unknown Review, edited by L.S. Engler. Since I retain all rights beyond first publication, I intend to revise the story and add it as my own self-published library.