The First Cup

A fly lands on his plate. He waves to signal it away. It must believe his wave is a greeting since, like an airplane practicing touch and go landings, it soon returns.

Two eggs, over easy, bacon, and toast. Oh, and a cup of coffee. Although calling it coffee may be going too far. It is weak, it is stale, it is disgusting to the last drop.The sign outside says restaurant. Inside it’s all 50’s dive.

Back again is the waved away fly with its sibilant buzz.

He longs for a good dark roast though he is not yet aware of the longing. One day years from now he will shun mochas, cappuccinos, macchiatos, and insist on black, robust, coffee. Coffee that makes the eggs taste better—and the buzzing of the fly tolerable.

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2 Responses to The First Cup

  1. bettyjo says:

    You may recall that Grandma had low blood pressure. Her Physician advised a cup of coffee each morning. Countless times she would confide that she had consulted with the Bishop and he said she should do so, Words of Wisdom notwithstanding.

    I have low blood pressure. My physician advised that a cup of V-8 juice sends a good jolt of salt straight into the bloodstream – a quick fix to lightheadedness that sometimes accompanies low pressure.

    And so, as I snag the salt shaker from across the dining table, I raise my chin, and say with defiant grin, “Doctor’s orders. I have a dispensation”.

    You can have my dispensation for that good black, robust dark roast if you want it….

  2. I remembered that Grandma drank coffee and that there was a story to go with it, but I’d forgotten the reason. Thanks for the memory jog. I’ll take any dispensations I can get.

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