Morning Brew

She finally woke up early for once! The sun was not even peaking through her window, but the sky was a brilliant gradient of light yellow to deep orange. She just lay there in bed and let the morning chill from the large window touch her face while the rest of her body was well bundled up underneath the blankets. Too many nights had she gone to sleep well past the sun setting and woken up well into the broad daylight.

She was a firm believer that one should experience as much as possible, but her night time romps had been taking away from her morning escapades and she was working to correct that. Everything in moderation she chanted in her head, something her father had said to her all through her childhood. It was seldom heeded in her adulthood, but she was rounding an age where she felt perhaps it was time to start listening to the wisdom of those who lived before her.

A light click sounded in the distance and the faint burbling sounds of water percolating was carried through the air into her room. Then the scent, the earthy bouquet of steeping coffee entered the room with a bold effort. It perked up her nose and transported her back in time to the days before she lived alone sitting with her mother on the porch on early autumn mornings. With a steaming cup of coffee in her hands, her mother seated to her side on the wooden swing. The light squeak of chains holding the bench to the porch ceiling as they slowly rocked back and forth. Her mother talking about the woes of being married to her father. All tongue in cheek of course, as they had a deep caring relationship that would stand the test of time.

The memory was brief, but enough to help her to push the covers begrudgingly out of her way to exit the bed. A new day had dawned and she was ready to face it. The chill hit her all at once. She was not expecting that, it caused every hair on her body to stand up and try to protect her from the frigid advance on her skin. She snapped up a comfy yellow robe from the floor, it was discarded the previous night hastily trying to get to bed. She wrapped the cold fluffy fabric around her. She knew with a few good shivers the cloth would begin to take her warmth and radiate it back to her.

Around the corner the last few drips of water making their way into the ground coffee basket could be heard. The coffee maker was doing its usual exasperated sigh of steam when the water would run out. This might be the first time in years she had a fresh cup of coffee, she thought. Most days the murky liquid would sit in the carafe for hours while she slept, getting more bitter and intensifying the acidic taste. Not today though, today she was very hopeful for an amazing cup that could warm her all the way through.

-V-

Branch

The television was blaring, bright colors were quickly crossing the screen. One would think it would be distracting, but she just stared out the window at the one lazy branch she could see from the couch. I moved slowly in the wind, nothing particularly interesting about it. The branch looked too weak to even support a birds nest. It was fairly gnarled, and had four leaves randomly placed along it. The seemed to be fainting in the heat, slowly dancing to make sure they were still living. The movement was entrancing to her though. She couldn’t pull her attention anywhere else in the room. Even with that television, she had no idea why she bothered turning it on anymore.

Perhaps it was just a ritual; after class: walk home, kick off shoes, turn on television, sit on couch, stare out window. How long had she been doing this? She’d be to bed before her mother got back from her second shift job, and out the door before mom would even be awake for the day. Kids dream of independence, but if this is what that meant, it was more like purgatory. Wash, rinse, repeat. Every day the same series of events. The uniform they made her wear didn’t help either, it just added to the monotony of the entire experience.

She was so lost in thought, she didn’t notice the lull in the sounds from the television and the creaking sound of someone ascending the rusted metal staircase leading to their tiny apartment. The light sounds of an old key slowly fitting into a lock. The door lethargically opened shining a strong beam of sunlight on her foot that grew up her leg and rested on her hands in her lap. The heat from the sun finally drew her attention to the door.

A man stood there, dark long hair matted down underneath a check patterned flat cap. He had a full beard, not terribly well groomed. His eyes were alight with a fire and a deep soulful fear. Part of her brain screamed, another part tried to sooth her. She knew this person on some deep corporal level. Her body trusted the part that was calming her.

She sat in place and just stared. Showing what she hoped was an expectant look on her face to the newcomer. He motioned as if he were about to speak, but just fell to the floor in a heap instead. Her mind screamed to her, “protect.” With decisive movements she was up and walking over to him. She leveraged herself under him and hoisted him onto her back. He was much lighter than she expected. It could have been the adrenaline, but even accounting for that he was certainly light.

She dragged the unconscious body into the well aged bathroom and rolled him over into the bath. Her sense of smell came slamming back to her, as the all the previous moments actions didn’t seem to need it. A world of scents her upon her, so many she had no way to describe, and one subtle light scent under the rest. One she knew, and could not place, but it was there.

-V-