she came to mind when he turned on his phone and saw he had missed her call. He had left her in bed with her latest book. Not a sappy romance book, thank god. No, she liked mysteries. She liked the intricate patterns that no one else saw. It irritated him how she solved the mystery within a chapter or two and carried on reading as if she didn’t know who the villain was. he drank his coffee, he saw the cream swirl and tasted the sweet of the sugar.
He pressed a button, heard her voice and he smiled. He pressed a button again and his screen went dark. Holstering the phone, he drank his coffee and tasted the sweet of the sugar. She loved her coffee triple-triple with a double shot of espresso,None of that Starbucks crap he liked to drink.
He walked up the stone steps that led to the tiny bungalow they shared.
Holding onto both coffees, he managed to find his keys and unlocked the door.
“Honey, I know you don’t like Starbucks” he called out as entered the foyer. He kicked the door closed behind him.”but I didn’t really think you would mind as much.”
There was silence.
He dropped his keys into the glass bowl on the hallway table and walked into the tiny kitchen. The dishes were still there from last night. He had made her a favorite dish, with a white wine and a chocolate dessert.
His mouth kicked up at the memory of eating the chocolate of her. She thought he was being so decadent.
“Hey I saw that book you wanted last week.” he went on. “it was in the bookstore this morning.”
He glanced at the living room, blankets were neatly folded on one end of the couch, pillows stacked on top. Magazines and empty coffee cups scattered everywhere. His brow furrowed. Good lord, better not let her see that, he thought.
He made his way the bedroom. The bed was unmade, her cami tossed carelessly on his side of the bed. He smiled. “You know, bringing you coffee in bed does have some perks.” he surmised.
The only sound was his breathing. The pounding of his heart.
Dust caught and shimmered in the sunlight.
With the two cups of coffee in his hands, he shuffled to the night stand and slowly placed the cups on it. He lowered himself onto the bed and touched the cami.
His fingers began to tremble as she came to mind, the outline of her body pressed to his. The scent of her lingering in his nostrils as he made love to her.
He blinked. His eyes had gotten watery. He reached for his phone. He pressed a button. “Hi honey, sorry I am running late,” her husky voice filled the room as he played her message. “You promised me a chocolate cake..” her voice broke off into a scream and the shriek of brakes echoed before the message ended.
“Message received July 12, 2013” the automated system came on. “message saved today at 9am July 12, 2016”
He pressed the phone to his mouth, to keep the sob that had been building up silent. The phone screen went dark. “happy anniversary” he whispered.
-a little story about a man who refuses to move on.