COFFEE MUG STORIES

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The morning air is chilly and you wake up  with a slight headache. You crave warmth so you quickly wrap yourself in a blanket and head downstairs. A cup of coffee is just what you need. You take a few sips and smile, you don’t feel so cold anymore.  The burning hot coffee kisses your cold lips and love begins as warmth enters your body. You are sitting in your beautiful apartment, wrapped in thick blankets and sipping coffee. You feel happy. Love is as simple as that. It is all about who can protect you from the cold and make you feel warm and safe. – Priyanka Hasija

 

coo‘My mother makes the best coffee’, she would always brag. Her mother read her diary remembering the last time they had one together. It wasn’t like two pretty black mugs and steam rising from it, facing the sunset. It was at 1:00 am, in a hospital, three surgeries later. Fighting so hard to still smile for her mother. ‘Ma, it has been months since you’ve brewed me your special’, she managed to utter. Coffee, sugar, water, milk, love and a few tear drops went into the thermos flask. A red hospital cup and thermos flask made her favorite and last coffee date. – Swarajya Singh.

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This was our favorite place. We spent most of our evenings here, in this small cafe. He always ordered espresso. Always. He said the bitterness of coffee matched his soul. I would laugh when he said that, until he left, then I would cry everyday.  It has been six months since I have had coffee there. I woke up unusually happy today. I put on some music, ate a cupcake and danced in the shower. I watched my feet drag me to the tiny coffee shop. I couldn’t stop. I had to go. The door opened with a creak and I walked towards the table near the window, my favorite one. I sat on the chair and smiled as I looked at the other empty seat. I had finally released the pain. I had finally moved on.

‘One cappuccino’. -Priyanka Hasija

coooo.jpgThree lattes, four glasses of water and God knows how many sighs later, just when I had gathered all my shattered hope to go back home, he finally came.  Three years and six days later. He was breathing heavy and speaking all the things within five seconds. His flight got delayed, his cab broke down, he fought for change. Ended up three hours late. Thought I would have left and has still has a rickshaw waiting outside because then he would have come to my house.  I don’t remember paying attention to any of his words. My heart was pounding louder than his voice. I hugged him and people gave us numerous stares. I was busy measuring the width of his chest by the distance between my arms. I heard someone shout.’Bloody gays’.I got so scared as he approached the man. He quietly went to his table and said, ‘Do you know what gay means? Gay means happy’.

For the first time in three years, I returned home and got high on caffeine and love. -Swarajya Singh

 

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