The Little Black Cup of Coffee

G~ 4:06 PM 0

Every day it was the same. The small petite woman would come in and order two small cup of black coffee. It was always really early in the morning and I would try to make small talk as she waited, but I would get no more than a few words and the hint of a smile.

Since it was a regular order and really simple I would have it ready in no time and then deliver it to her as she sat looking out the window as if she were waiting for someone. I sometimes would put both of the cups down in front of her, but she would instinctively push one cup to the other side of the table without a single glance in my direction.

She was a very attractive woman even with her heavy and dark makeup that made it seem as though she rarely got sleep. However, I didn't dare ask for her number or give her mine as she was a regular customer and I didn't want her visit to get awkward. I contented myself to having a one sided conversation whenever she arrived to order her coffee.

There was something a bit peculiar about her. Since she was usually the only one in the small coffee shop early in the morning I took to observing her rather carefully. It was pretty obvious that she didn't like her coffee black. She would sip it and grimace a bit at the taste before putting it down only taking sips every now and then. Once the coffee was delivered she would stare across the table as if she were staring and communicating with someone, but she was always alone.

Once people started to arrive she would collect her things and go. Then I would go over to the table and collect her coffee cups. She never finished her coffee nor did she ever drink any of the other cup that she had ordered. Once I got to thinking, the only thing that I could come up with was that she was a widow that used to get coffee with her husband that had passed away and now she was going through the motions with his memories.

One day I decided to add some cream and sugar to her coffee just to be nice. There was no reason that she had to suffer through something that she didn't like just for the sake of memories. I placed the coffee like usual and then left to watch to see the scene unfold.

She sipped the coffee and then recoiled from it almost as if it had been poisoned. Holding the cup away from her face was a mask of horror. Slowly she turned to look in my direction. Our eyes met, but it wasn't like I had imagined. Instead of being a romantic spark between us there seemed to be a sudden chill in the air. In the next instant, she tore out of the coffee shop like something was after her.

Later that evening, I contemplated the events that had happened earlier. If the woman didn't like cream and sugar then she could have just said so, but I also shouldn't have done that. I always followed orders to the letter. I would have to apologize to her tomorrow, if she came back at all. As I was about to fall asleep I felt a cold chill in my room. It was similar to the one that I had felt when our eyes had met earlier.

The next day she didn't come to get her coffee, but I didn't expect how sad I would be when she didn't appear. She was a fixture and now she was gone. She failed to show over the next few days until gradually I forgot about her and went back to my regular before she showed up. Until one day out of the blue when I was in the back of the shop getting ready there was a slight cough at the counter. Although we were open, people rarely showed up at the moment that we opened. I was surprised to find the woman there at the counter ready to order.

"I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to introduce myself earlier. My name is Miranda and I was wondering if we could talk for a moment."

"Sure, let me get you your coffee and I'll be right over." She smiled and then went to sit down in her usual spot.  I quickly put down what I was doing and started on her coffee right away. There was absolutely no temptation to alter her order, and I took extra care to make sure that it was perfect before bringing it out to her table and sitting down.

"Would you mind sitting here?" Instead of sitting across from her she wanted me to sit diagonally across from her. I didn't mind and took a seat all the same.

"I just wanted to apologize about..."

"Oh that was nothing, it really didn't mean anything to me, but it's just that there is something you don't know about me. I am the bride of the dead and well my husband is a little jealous. He is a spirit and they don't quite feel the same way about things as the living do."

I was quite shocked to hear what she had to say and slightly saddened as well. Here was someone that I hoped was normal,but it turned out she was a crazy.

"I know you must think I'm crazy and you have every right to. It's not everyday that you meet someone that is fated to marry the dead. However, I had to be away in order to protect you. It would have hurt me deeply if something had happened to you because of me. The dead are not kind in their vengeance." She took a sip of her coffee and grimaced slightly.

"So, is your husband here now?" I looked at the empty seat next to me where the extra cup sat in front of it untouched.

"Actually yes he is here. It would be inappropriate for me to come here alone." She turned to look at the place and then nodded her head. "I cannot quite communicate well with him, but I understand enough to get by. He really is an interesting fellow."

I had heard just about enough and quickly excused myself on the pretense of needing to get back to work. She did the same as always, leaving before finishing her coffee. My boss came by and said he needed to have a talk with me.

"So I was checking the security footage just to see if it was still running, but I wanted to check in with you to make sure that you were alright."

"Of course, but I met the strangest woman." I told him the entire story of what had transpired leading up to that day and what the woman had told me earlier. His face went from awe to outright concern.

"Well, you say that a woman has been coming here, but there hasn't been any woman. When I checked the tapes I only saw you delivering coffee to an empty table. You've been doing it for quite sometime now."

The boss let me go after I convinced him it was merely a joke, but I was concerned as well. Apparently there was no small woman that I had been delivering coffee to, and the conversation that had taken place today was between no one but me. Immediately, I thought that I was going crazy. I remembered her name and went on to see if I could find out anything about her. Her name was rather uncommon in the small town and popped up immediately: in the obituary.

Miranda Smith was dead, but she had died on the very first day that I had met her. I remember it almost like it was yesterday. It was raining, but she had come in without single drop of water on her. She had come in seemingly as fresh as mom's roses in the spring time.