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“Monday Morning Coffee” has been with me since I was sixteen. A local boy with schizophrenia wandered away from his family at a large outdoor event. Several days later, he was found, deceased.
From that story came this one – the connection might not be clear to anyone but me – but it’s there.
Rose has something important to say to Jeremy.
“Why Are We All Alone?”
He swallows, and makes a sound like the one he made when he first sipped the latte. The stubble of unshaved skin is sensual in a way that sends the warmth lower than my belly, now, so that I squirm a little on the chill metal bench. His pulse jumps beneath my fingers, like it wants to climb inside me, and I tense my muscles to hold back from kissing him. “Jeremy, you are as human as anyone else here.” I gesture with my free hand, but hold his gaze.
“Then why are we all alone here, kind Rose? Why do they all look through me or past me, or at me as though I'm dog droppings on their shoes?”
“Maybe because you're more human than they are,” I choke out, fiercely.
How will Jeremy respond to Rose’s answer?
What is happening between them?
Can there possibly be a future here?
Any guesses you’d like to share?
“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 as needed, and use it as my inaugural self-publishing venture later in the year.