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I Write Short Stories

In the morning, coffee is the way to start our mornings. The morning dew out the window, faintly illuminated by the lights in the big kitchen window is a good backdrop in the wee hours. Im up first as usual. I stumble in, zonbii like and flail about until i find the water boiler. I make everything ready the night before.
Its a couple of minutes before its boiling, so I sip on some water to get rid of morning breath.
In what seems like no time at all, the water's hot, and it pours straight into the press, releasing the lifegiving smell of coffee. In a minute Ill hear him stir in our room down the hall, and he comes in just after its ready. Sure enough, soon I see him drag in. I can usually hear him walking down so Ill generally have both our mugs ready. Im sitting on the counter when he comes in, because I can look him more in the eye. He stops in front of me and focuses on me as best he can, mutely taking my offered mug. The waking I can visibly see on his face when he drinks.


The warmth of the coffee on his tongue is almost as enjoyable as the coffee itself when he kisses me good morning.
ninjavu · 51-55, M
Nice. Almost feels like I'm there.

 
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