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In memory of someone...

Cup of Coffee
Cup of Coffee
Google

A cup of coffee with visible steam sits on a table as she walks out of her bedroom and into the dining room. The view is incredible- the glass walls show the majestic ocean on the other side of her house. She takes a seat while in her blue and white chess-board pajamas and with one hand under her chin and the other holding the cup, she stares into the endless depths before her. The calm washes over her, and at the same time reminds her of the pain of losing the one person closest to her.

As a tear falls down her cheek, she gets up and goes back into her room to change for the day ahead of her. She leaves the steamed coffee on the table and walks out of her house. The day is long and tiring and yet, very serene. She barely says a word, however. She finishes her work and comes back to the house. She brews another cup of coffee with visible steam and sits at the same table. Her husband walks in and sits beside her. The two remain wordless and glareful at the view.

He takes her hand and still speechless leans in to kiss her on the forehead. A tear falls to his cheek and hits her forehead. It runs down to her nose and then the top of her lip until it reaches inside her mouth. She then jerks back and gets up to pour coffee for her husband. She smiles at him and he smiles back. She stands there, leaning against the granite counter, while staring out to the ocean adjacent to her home. He watches her as she pours the coffee and walks towards him.

She places the cup in front of him and wraps her arms around him as he sits facing the ocean. The two stare into the waters and the waves, and find solace in each other’s company. She then turns around and walks to the counter to pick up the newspaper. It reads five months prior’s news. She returns to the table and sits down. The pages turn to the obituary section and a neon colored marker is encircled around the words - Mary Walters. She stares and he stares- at the paper in front of them.

They both stand up, leave the paper and walk away to the bedroom. Before they go inside, she whispers to him: “My mom is not coming back.” He whispers back: “She’s here every morning… in every wave of the ocean.” She then takes his hand and squeezes it. A tear falls to her cheek as the two go in their room and close the door behind them.