A Glimpse of Morning

Flash fiction | Slice of life

Hello, dear readers.

A little over a year ago, I wrote this story in response to a photo prompt exercise. I was still trying to develop a voice, a writing style, a writing habit - all the things that writing books say you should do. I wanted to hit at least 800 words a day. I wanted to start a book and successfully finish it. I wanted to be a Real Author, and this was one practice that helped me start that dream.

A few good stories came out of it. Most of them are still buried in my odds-and-ends drawer, never to see the light of day, but this one will always be special to me. At first glance, it may not seem like much. The story is only 756 words, and the accompanying photo isn’t anything busy or super-dramatic. It’s a coffee mug on a table. Not exactly rocket surgery.

To me, though, it has meaning. When we first started dating, my husband and I would go out for coffee every day. Now that we’re married, we take turns making coffee for each other. It’s a comfortable routine, and may not seem notable to most people, but it means a lot to us. It’s a daily reminder of the history we have, the interests we share, and the care that we have for each other.

With that in mind, I wrote this little ditty. Like every other bit of fiction, it’s not entirely true or false, but the emotion behind it is real. I love my husband. I treasure this kind of peace, which is so rare in such a busy and chaotic world. And I relish the chance to find it again, in bits and pieces, throughout the day.

Whether you find comfort in your coffee, your daily routine, your loved ones, or your writing, I hope it brings you this kind of peace today.

<3 Olivia

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He forgot his coffee again. He always does. Running half-mad out the door like a whirlwind, forgetting everything from his briefcase to his phone. Today's coffee is no exception. It's just an excuse to get me to visit him again.

I smile into my own cup as I take one last sip of caffeine. Then I stand, stretching my fingertips into the air, feeling my back settling in place again, the strain releasing over my hips. One hand moves to my expanding belly, and my smile grows. The tiny kicks have been getting stronger, and they're one more reminder of our coming family. It's not at all the way I would have foreseen it, but it's here. Life always holds surprises for those who try to anticipate it.

My feet slide across the bare wood floors as I walk to the bathroom for a shower. Under the scathing water, my thoughts wander back to the day we met, a recommendation by a mutual friend. We'd both had our confusions at first, but managed to pull laughter out of the awkward dinner that we shared. From that moment on, we've been nearly inseparable.

We'd both had our shares of heartache in the past, that couldn't be denied. But for the first time in both of our lives, it seemed like we had something more to live for. One more adventure before we both gave in. And now, five years later, life has given us another.

Water drips onto the floor as I reach for a towel. Miyah, our black-and-white cat, meows loudly at me as I scrub the last bits of soap and watered-down shampoo off of my skin. She was our first adoptee, the one we picked out together. Our first venture into shared responsibility for another life. They say that pets aren't the same as children, but Miyah had her own lessons to share. Dragging her out of small hidey-holes against the wall, rescuing pencils and pens before they vanished under the sofa, moving bottles of perfume and oil before she knocked them off the ledge. We learned to anticipate her, to move with her, instead of colliding with her instincts. We adjusted our life for her. And now we'll do it again, for our own little one this time. 

Finally dressed, I gaze at my reflection in the mirror as I comb my hair. It's longer than it's been in years. Ever since I was a child, I've been vain about my hair. Now it sways nearly to my waist, and I usually pull it back to keep it out of my face. Today, though, I choose a colorful headband that matches my clothes. It will make him smile, which brings me happiness. He gives me so much joy, and it seems like such a small act to repay it.

Miyah meows at me again as I move into the kitchen, and I obligingly give her a small treat. She watches as I pour my husband's coffee into a travel cup, and purrs as I pet her ears on the way out the door. Outside, the morning's spring shower has traveled on, leaving the pavement wet and the air slightly muggy as I walk. Several children skip by, singing songs with nonsense words on their way to school, a harried-looking mother following. I bite back a smile until they pass, and find myself patting my belly again. I have a chance to be that mother, too. And I'm not going to waste it.

I arrive at my husband's work and greet the receptionist with a smile. She rolls her eyes at the drink in my hand, and we share a quiet laugh before I make my way back to his desk. He's already hard at work, focused, staring at his computer screen like it will give him the answers to life. It takes him a minute to realize I'm there, but the smile when he does is worth a thousand years. He sees the coffee and smacks his forehead, making a silly face. I shake my head and kiss him in return, and he smiles again. We share a quiet conversation about nothing, and then I return him to his work.

On my way out, I wave at the receptionist, then step back into the heaviness of spring weather. The day has only just begun, and it's going so well. As my steps turn towards home, my belly feels heavy and my heart feels light, and I wonder what I should make for supper.

(Photo by Cup of Couple, Pexels)

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