Before The Coffee Gets Cold Summary Novels & Stories

How did I get this drunk? The coffee machine beeped signaling that my coffee was done. I didn’t wait for it to cool down. I grabbed the pot and poured my usual, black mug filled to the brim with black coffee. No creamer, no sugar, no any of the fake bullshit people tend to put into it. I took a deep sip, savoring the bitterness and the warmth of the liquid. If it burned my tongue I didn’t even notice. Alright. Let’s take it from the top.

But he hadn't actually enacted any of it yet. Maybe today would be different. Maybe today she'd make a mistake big enough to trigger that side of their arrangement. The thought should terrify her. Instead, it made something low in her belly tighten with anticipation she didn't want to examine too closely. Stop it. Focus. Just get through today. Coffee ready at 7:58 AM, she carried it carefully back to her desk and set it in the small warming station she'd discovered yesterday....a heated platform that would keep it at exactly the right temperature until he arrived.

Around here I doubt that someone is coming to rob us, but it is better to be safe. He lets go of me and closes the door when I finish coming in. "Let's go have coffee." I think we have a lot to talk about. I put an arm around her shoulders. "Maybe it's a little late for coffee." How about a water chocolate? —It refers to liquid chocolate, which is almost a national anthem. It is nothing more than a chocolate with sugar, a pinch of salt, more water than chocolate tables and perhaps a cinnamon stick. It is the breakfast of the poor, as some call it. I call it delight.

"Your coffee. It will get cold." I said in between my pants before getting off his lap to let him get up. He groaned in disapproval and walked over to the table before grabbing the cup of coffee and opening the lid. I sat there watching his every move wanting to capture even the slightest detail of his reaction to my coffee. What is wrong with me? What has actually happened to me? I could see that coffee was still hot just by looking at the cloud of steam that was rising from the cup. I watched him taking a sip and I shot my question at him even without letting him the chance to gulp it down.

Early next morning, Riley was already waiting for me downstairs. As soon as I got into the car, he pulled out a steaming bag of pastries and warm milk from under his coat. "I kept them in my coat to keep them warm so you can have a hot breakfast. Hurry and eat before it gets cold." I took the breakfast and held it in my hands. Riley drove, glancing at me from the corner of his eye every now and then. "Yesterday, the head of the Kentran Top-Secret Research Project contacted me. My name's on the list for this new project. Anna, I know it was you who recommended me." My hand trembled when I heard that.

Who had said yes at a kitchen table on a Wednesday morning and Friday works at midnight and then finish it in a doorframe at seven in the morning. “I won’t,” I said. She looked at me for another moment. Then she moved her hands from my collar to my chest, a different gesture this time, steadying rather than holding, and stepped back slightly into her room. “Coffee,” she said. “Before anything else. I am not a person before coffee.” “I know,” I said. “I made it.” “You did,” she said. “It’s getting cold.”

I stopped at the convenience store nearby and bought a coffee. A few young women wearing company ID badges stood nearby gossiping together. "Did you guys see Isabel today? She looked so smug. That hickey on her neck was barely covered." "Please. Everyone knows exactly how she climbed the ladder. And, of all people, Mr. Newman seriously picked her?" "Men are all the same once they get rich. I heard Mr. Newman takes Isabel into his office all the time during lunch breaks. Closes the door and everything. Who knows what they’re doing in there?"

Perhaps a cup of coffee to kickstart my system. I heated the leftover coffee in the pot and poured it into a cup, adding full cream and sugar. Taking a slow, cautious sip, I winced at the slight burn on my tongue. Goodness, it was piping hot. I diluted it with cold water and tasted it again, nodding at the warmth. The peaceful silence enveloped me as I prepared to ascend the stairs, but the sound of a shower running in Luciano's room caught my attention.

The coffee had gone cold on the counter, untouched. And somewhere, far below their apartment a black car waited at the corner engine idle, tinted windows reflecting nothing.