Friday Flash: Morning Coffee


It was time for me to answer for all of my indiscretions and I was terrified.

The mornings are so beautiful in the fall. The leaves, orange and red, gently swayed in the morning breeze. The large maple tree loomed large outside my window. As if it knew my weaknesses, my failures and mocked me as I  lay in bed.

The blanket couldn’t save me now. Blankets stopped being my impenetrable shield when I got scared twenty years ago. Now it was all me.

I had to face it. Whatever it was good or bad, the buck stopped with me.

I jump out of bed, determined to get it over with. Like pulling a band aid off my arm. It’ll hurt for a minute, but the pain would go away as quickly as it came.

But I chickened out.

Instead, I mulled around the bedroom sorting laundry.

“Ready for breakfast?” yells my husband from downstairs.

I jump when I hear his baritone voice breaking the silence.

“Yes please. I’ll be down in a second.” I yell back.

“The usual?”

The usual? Do I want the usual? I really don’t know.

“I’ll just take coffee for now,” I say.

“Ok, I’ll see you in a minute. Hurry before it gets cold. I already made a pot.”


It was now or never.

I stared at it. It was innocent enough. White, flat with a glass screen. It couldn’t physically punch me in the face, but the pain it illicited would be much worse.

Before I could stop myself, I walked into the bathroom and stepped onto the scale and closed my eyes. I counted to twenty and hoped the digital screen had an acceptable number. During the countdown I remembered the two cupcakes I had on Wednesday, and the chocolate chip cookie and hot cocoa on Monday night. I know it was Monday because it was cold and raining. I remembered the two bowls of frosted flakes that completely hit the spot while I watched house hunters on Friday.

But there was good too.

On Tuesday I walked on the treadmill for an hour. On Thursday I went to yoga for an hour, and on Tuesday, twenty five minutes of kick boxing had me exhausted. It was going to be close.

As I opened my eyes to look at my current weight, I hear a loud crash downstairs followed by loud and obscene yelling coming from my husband.

I run downstairs, worry building in my gut. “What happened, what happened?” I said.

“The coffee cup broke. There’s coffee and cup pieces everywhere. Watch out. Don’t cut yourself.”

“I’m ok. Let me get the dust pan and broom.” I get the broom and start sweeping up broken cup and coffee.

“So, what did you weigh today?” Asked my husband. “I don’t know.”

“You were up there all this time and you didn’t get on the scale?”

“I did but I didn’t see what it said. I heard you cursing down here so I came.”

“Go on, I’ll finish cleaning this up. Go see what you weigh.” I hesitated for a second.

“Maybe later. Right now I’m going to enjoy my morning and drink coffee with you. Whatever that scale says and what ever I feel about it can wait.”

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