Morning Coffee (Short Story)
All I wanted in the world was to be a shiny new penny. I wanted a clean slate, a pure soul that didn’t know of hatred or tragedy, but only of love. I wanted something to erase every sad moment, every dark day. I wish I could have made better decisions, not for my sake, but for his.
I watched him sip his morning coffee, completely oblivious to my ponderings and self-doubt. I felt so unworthy of his touch and his kind words. I meandered from my chair to the other side of the table and curled myself onto his lap like an ashamed kitten.
“What if I don’t get better, what if I only become worse?” I ask in a voice barely above a whisper.
His arms encircled my waist and we sat there idly for a few minutes before he whispered to me, “You’re the heroine in every story I write about.”
A tear slithered down my cheek then onto my lips, but I didn’t turn to face him. I leaned my back against his chest. I didn’t want him to see me crying. He took my hand and tenderly kissed it before holding it above my heart. I turned around to face him properly, and with one kiss, I believed everything he had ever told me.