Waiting was written for Friday Fictioneers. Many thanks, Rochelle!
The coffee is fresh and waiting with a plate of his favorite brown butter cookies.
Only a few flurries linger, the storm’s lifeblood drained. Usually he’s here by now to plow my driveway, accept a cup of warming coffee, before hovering in awkward silence until saying, finally, “I’m sorry” and returning to his wife.
Twenty years of a pathetic routine I’ve clung to. Never been more. Just coffee, cookies and brief nostalgic companionship.
A flicker of worry, before sleep, waking and then the news. Good Samaritan Killed.
end (87 words)