Marta's morning coffee
It had been weeks since Marta had seen her favourite neighbour, Rado. She figured he might have forgotten her. She felt more lonely in the last days, without Rado coming around. Where had the sweet man gone? Why was there no knock on the door, and Rado coming in with pastries in his hand, as each morning? It was now just one cup of coffee instead of the usual two she brewed. It made her nervous and she put her hands in her pockets, as she had no idea what to do with them. The clock was ticking as she looked outside, her face frowned as a beat-up pillow. Life wasn’t easy for her, as a divorced lady with not too much attention from men other than Rado. He himself was a repairman and worked long days, for that reason he always enjoyed the coffee with Marta before he’d start. She poured her own coffee and put a spoonful of sugar, then threw the spoon into the sink. And so she drank it, without milk, and let it burn her tongue. He wasn’t there and she could feel it, the pain deep inside her heart. And would he come back? She didn’t know. She finished her coffee and wondered where time had gone. And where Rado had gone. Perhaps he was still getting pastries, or doing repairs somewhere.
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