It’s six a.m., and the kitchen is filled with musty smells and I get a putrid hit of food rotting in the dustbin. I see a chubby rat feasting on the remains of last night’s meal, which almost feels like a grand spread for the little critter. It’s still dark outside; I throw a light switch to illuminate the room, revealing the mess of dishes strewn across the sink. I’ll deal with those later, I decide, for I had important things to tackle first.
The pot of coffee lies neglected in the file cabinet, where I’d put it after brewing my morning cup yesterday. I take it in my hands, inspect it, and verify that it is clean to my liking. I fill it up to the brim with tap water, place it gently on the stove and turn on the heat. I rub my eyes as I watch the water, calm at first but slowly disturbed as the slow heat does its thing. The water simmers over the flame, carefully and wishfully, as if it was trying to savor every moment it was on the stove. The calm soon ends as the water comes to a feverish boil. It’s time to put in the coffee, I think to myself, as I scoop a generous helping of the brown powder into the pot of boiling liquid. The smell wafts, and teases my nostrils as I add in the sugar and milk. My body feels wide awake, and my senses are whet by the sweet smell of my coffee. I feast on the visual grandeur that is my cup – the milky brown elixir now topped with a dollop of cream swirling on top of its surface. I indulge my taste buds as I sip on the magical concoction, feel the warm and bitter tinge at the back of my tongue, savoring the mild sweetness and gentle creaminess of its additives.
I realize that the greatest joys in life could be really simple. I’m now ready to tackle whatever life throws at me today.
Inspired by this week’s writing challenge.