That morning I saw Alicia come out of her room, still sleepy, disheveled, but as always, straight to the kitchen to prepare her first cup of coffee of the day to come back to life, as she herself said.
I, from the sofa, watched her in silence, as I knew what was going to happen after Alicia discovered that there was no coffee in the cupboard.
She opened the two doors as if looking for light in the darkness. The coffee was not in sight as we used to leave it. She reached all the way in, feeling around to find the coffee container. He pulled his hand out, leaned a little to get a better look among the other containers we have there and asked, loudly, almost shouting NO COFFEE?
I answered him, gently, so as not to upset his bad mood any more: "You prepared all that was left last night, Alicia! Do you remember?
He slammed both doors shut, put his hands to his head and, shouting profanities, ran out to his room and locked himself in.
I read on, undeterred, for it was the best thing to do to avoid an argument. Alicia transformed into someone else every time she missed her morning cup of coffee. But she always forgot to book.
Having just moved in, I witnessed such an episode for the first time. I was terrified to see her so desperate, lost, but then, she would calm down and go out to buy more coffee. So many packets that, by my calculations, she would have enough for several months. She could have spent months drinking coffee, never running out, but she didn't have enough, and last night she ran out of the last packet. That purchase was consumed in just over a month.
As a result of that experience, I decided to stop drinking coffee at home. Not for a second did I think about making it for myself when Alicia was gone, I didn't want to see her upset. I respected her coffee.
After reading a few pages of my book, I was surprised that Alicia was still in her room. I was surprised that this time she hadn't gone out to buy more coffee. I closed my book. Slowly, I approached her room. Suddenly, she opened the door and ran out into the street, shouting: coffee, please!
I remained inert, glued to the wall. A few seconds later, I heard the braking of a car and a terrifying scream.
Trembling with fear as I imagined the scene, I looked out the window and sure enough, Alicia was lying under the car. The poor man was crying in despair because he had run her over.
There was nothing to be done...
Alicia was dead!
A death by coffee!
Greetings to the whole team, I share my participation in the stb-creative-writing-coffee-prompt-week-41.
All content in this publication is original content and personal creative work. The separators and banners are my designs in Canva. The photo of the coffee cup is my own, edited with Canva Premium.
