Story of the Coffee Stains

I put the empty coffee-packet between the pages and kept the book aside. My eyes have become weary of reading incessantly for far too long. I gaze through the curtain-less window at…NOTHING. Just an Autumn downpour tapping on the windowpane with a monotonous cadence. I take a quick peek into my coffee mug. The remaining coffee is as cold and stagnant as my life. Should I have some more coffee? But that will take my leaving from the bed, my amorous bed with an artistically coffee stained bedsheet.

Continue reading . . .

WordPress.com.

Up ↑