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Leading up to writing our own short stories in English, we read and analyzed multiple celebrated short stories such as Harrison Bergeron by Kurt Vonnegut and Popular Mechanics by Raymond Carver. While reading these, we learned the components of an ever-so present protagonist, some sort of rising conflict, the climax, and the resolving of the conflict are all necessary aspects seen in short stories. My short story, Coffee like Clockwork was actually inspired by one of my favorite songs, Coffeeshop Soundtrack by All Time Low. The song is about a young male adult in a relationship with an older married woman. I thought this was a perfect anecdote for a fascinating short story. My goal with the story was to depict their feeling of safety in a taboo relationship, and the cycle that has created for them. I didn't really follow the proper short story model, because the characters are not significantly changed at the end of the story. But I wanted to create something not very typical. P.S. Click the play button to listen!

 

Coffee like Clockwork. “What’s this?” she inquired, as she delicately sat into her usual dark mahogany chair, at their usual dark mahogany table, at their usual coffee shop...at their usual time. Her deep red leather bag slid from her weak shoulders to reunite with its weekly acquaintance, a hardwood floor sprinkled with muffin crumbs. “Um..well, it’s your favorite drink, right? Double shot espresso?” he was used to her odd moods around this time. She’ll be fine in like, 10 minutes, he reassured himself. “Oh, right. Thanks.” Her eyelashes were practically dumbbells. Every flutter seemed enough to remove her own eye from its socket. Maybe that would not be so bad. Underneath the dark mahogany crafted table, she twirled her massive ring off into the cup of her hand, and crept it into her loose coat pocket. She was well aware that this was not necessary, seeing that her marriage was not a secret to her young, late afternoon coffee counterpart. Why should I have something else reminding me that I am a bad person? was her mind’s justification for that one. As he took off his forest green apron, he couldn’t help but ask, “What flavor today?” The aroma, the shine, and her barely pursed lips were too endearing. “Oh, just ‘Cherry Red.’ Nothing special today.” She glanced towards the other caffeine addicts in the room while her cheeks warmed into a shade complimentary to her lips. “Well, special or not, I like it anyways. And your hair looks nice.” His attempts at progressively gaining her attention were always successful. He had played this game too often. “Thanks, that was sweet. I guess I should tell you that you don’t look like you crawled out of a toilet this morning.” She had a habit of directing her natural snark towards him, it was a pleasant relocation of the tiny guilt that pulled away her thoughts. While there was a minor rut in conversation, her glances became more frequent. With each flicker of her eyelashes, her urge to remove the ring from her pocket increased, but only slightly. Slightly. She was safe here, though, so she decided to resist that urge for now. “The weather is just lovely today. Really lovely,” he scratched his barely-there five o’ clock shadow. His fingernails were short and clean. “That’s funny because it’s raining. How was work today?” She often asked him this without any prior thought, it always found a way to fly from her lips. “What is wrong with thinking rain is lovely? It was fine,” he replied. “Nothing, except the fact that it makes me wet and uncomfortable and it makes my contacts slippery. That’s good, did anything interesting happen today?” He took an elongated sip from his hot chocolate, not really sure how to add to the first part of their conversation without her slipping the ring back on her finger. During these parts of their exchanges he always approached a loss of words. A tiny bubble of doubt would appear in his head that all they had shared would be extinguished. His flames would burn out like its predecessors. But soon enough, he would fashion an appropriate response, and the flames would continue to crackle. “Not anything in particular that I can remember. We have a new flavored scone this week. How was your work day?” was his genius reply. Her sips were more anxious and deliberate. Each one was delicate and treasured behind her cherry red lips. She only drank coffee at this certain coffee shop, on this certain day, at this certain time. The caffeine was enough to subside her led eyelids for a while. It was enough to justify her demons for a while. “I guess that’s what you would expect from working at a coffee shop. What flavors? And it was adequate.” After almost scalding her tongue, she lightly blew over her mug, being careful not to spill onto the table. “Blueberry cinnamon. Why only adequate?” He chose to ignore the remark about his job. Anything risky he could potentially retort could mean no more Thursday afternoon coffee. Thursdays were his favorite days. “Hmm. Maybe because just the thought of getting up in the morning only to return to a job I absolutely loathe doesn’t really entail any better outcomes than adequate. You’re cute for questioning that.” She slammed her mug lightly enough on the table to prevent a major incident, managing only to burn her thumb. “Um, do you want to run some water over that or something?” he asked with a mixture of genuine concern and confusion. Ten minutes doesn’t usually last this long. “Where did you learn that, health class last semester? I’m perfectly fine.” “Let’s just get out of here. Okay?” he calmly suggested. His volume was close to that of a whisper, but his thoughts were more of a pleading tone. “Let’s just stay five more minutes. Please.” She knew her vulnerability would eventually need to escape. She needed this coffee shop. “Fine with me,” he said, trying to maintain a cool demeanor. But really, he couldn’t have been more pleased. That was five more minutes the ring wouldn’t return to her finger. Five more minutes the caffeine could keep them jittery and entwined. “Good.” She continued with her petite sips and awkward glances, and the ring remained firmly planted at the bottom of her pocket. “Did I mention your hair looks nice today?”

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