#coffee “Vrrrrrrr”, “vrrrrrrr,” the small alarm clock rang. Kait opened her eyes slowly. The sunlight slid through cracks in her curtains, casting soft colors across her white pillows. She sat up in bed, letting the silence of early morning settle around her, feeling the weight of dreams still lingering as she rubbed her eyes. The wooden floor was cool under her feet as she padded into the kitchen. She reached for the coffee canister, tapping out the last few scoops of ground coffee into the filter. The machine gurgled to life, filling the air with the earthy warmth of morning, the kind that made the house feel smaller and quieter, like it was waiting for something. She leaned against the counter, listening to the drip, drip of the coffee as it pooled in the pot. Outside, the world was slowly waking up—the distant hum of cars, the faint murmur of someone walking their dog, the soft rustle of leaves in the morning breeze. It was all familiar, yet it felt different today. She glanced at the calendar on the fridge, where today’s date was circled in red. She poured the coffee into her favorite mug, the one with the tiny crack in the handle she always told herself she’d replace. But there was something comforting about its imperfect shape, the way it fit perfectly in her hands. She wrapped her fingers around it, feeling the warmth seep into her palms, grounding her. Kait moved to the small table by the window, her gaze drifting outside. She took the first sip of her coffee slowly, savoring each taste as if it were the last. She didn’t know when her mornings had started feeling like this—like something was shifting, slipping away without her realizing it. The sun climbed higher, brightening the room, but Kait stayed there, watching shadows dance across the table. The warmth of the coffee faded, but she kept holding the cup, her thumb tracing the tiny crack, lost in thought. After a while, she sighed and stood up, rinsing out the mug and placing it on the drying rack. She poured the last bit of coffee into her cup, swirling it around, watching it settle. She took one last sip, letting the rich, bitter taste linger on her tongue. And as she set the mug down, empty, she felt the quiet weight of endings settling into place. Kait looked around her kitchen, at the empty coffee pot, at the light streaming in. She poured her last cup of coffee, and the morning drifted away.