Coffee-Fueled Lanterns

I can remember all the darkness before the light.

I was shrouded. It was pretty surreal. So much nothing all at once.

I felt my way around-- aimless. It was me in a dark room and the most I felt were cold spaces. If you've ever been there, you'll understand exactly what I mean.

I strongly believe everyone knows what I mean, to be quite frank.

She was a flickering lantern concealed by the blanket of rain clouds. I'd have never thought I'd feel the damp cloth, and I'd expected even less to find a flickering light beneath it! My room had been lit ablaze, and by God, it was so incredibly beautiful! Where this had been all hiding, I remained unsure-- but there it was. Warm, bright, and mine.

All mine.

A rainy August morning is where it'd all began at the ending. The clouds had been swirling menacingly overhead, vicious raindrops looming within. In the past of my childhood, those days brought me comfort-- now, it reflected the whirlwind of my soul. I'd lost my job, the woman I'd loved with my whole soul and being left me in the dust for my 'momma's-favourite' brother, and I was a mess. No umbrella was needed today-- I was already going to get wet, anyway.

I'd embarked from my shitty apartment. I had three things with me that murky dawn-- A bent, grainy photo of her in my torn wallet in my front-left pocket, and a note in my left-back. People typically made notes for these sort of things, didn't they? To confess their 'regrets' and each individual 'sorry'. I wasn't sorry-- just angry.

Anger makes one do wild, insane things.

In that stewing level of being "done", a strong scent wafted straight into my bitter soul. I turned my head to catch the source-- hah. Speaking of "bitter", it was a coffee shop! The smell was better than most coffee scents, which surprised me-- the place looked as though it'd been from the Dark Ages. Yet, it smelt of Heaven. My feet came to a twisted halt. Whatever overcame me, I'd thank myself later for, because I walked in after only hardly a-moments hesitation.

A last meal for the self-sentenced man on Death Row.

I ordered a large coffee- two sugars and creamer, just as I liked it. I tried to take my time, but time escaped me rather quickly-- it was empty in only a few minutes. As I stared into the dark residue on the bottom of the printed mug, my poorly-maintained train-of-thought was screeched to a halt by one voice.

Sweet, like the sugar in my coffee: "Would you like a refill?"

"I have no money." Came the quick and silver-tongued response. It was kind of a lie-- I had a little money left. But there was no use in delaying the inevitable, right? More coffee meant more time wasted here. More time to rethink.

"Refills are on the house, Darlin'."

This time, I looked up to the vocal in hopes of protesting and politely declining the offer. But like peanut butter, those polite protests glued to my throat walls. I'd like to consider myself separated totally and completely from the laws of God, but the one thought on my blank-slate mind had been etched with permanent chalk;

When did God make such a beautiful creature?

I cleared my throat, prying my eyes from her holy, brown hair.

"If you're certain, I'd hate to not accept."

What the Hell?

The rich liquid of the Lord poured into my mug-- two sugars, a creamer-- and I drank it all up like it were a newfound urge to live. She mentioned that's how she drank coffee, too. I mentioned that she had good taste. I asked when she worked next, she laughed and said "Tuesday at three".

I went home, and a paper note with a torn photograph went into my dollar wastebin.

As I came back Tuesday at three, then Thursday at seven, and evermore beyond that, I found myself smiling. Can you believe it? A no-life loser like me, smiling like an angel-struck goofball. But if you'd met her, you'd know too-- She was an angel sent straight from the highest level of Heaven. An angel, who drank coffee with two sugars and a creamer.

It was really odd, now that I look back. She'd always sit in my booth after her shift, we'd laugh. I complimented her delectable hazel eyes, and she'd compliment my stupid grey ones. It was too good to be true, wasn't it--An angel like her that radiated such light. But it was true, and it was good-- That's all I needed. My precious angel, my sweet lantern-- she lit my way. I'd gotten back on my feet and soon found myself answering phones from 9 to 5. It definitely wasn't my preferred position, but it certainly paid for the two things I needed paid for-- Bills, and coffee.

Then, it was her. I'd earnt the right to call her my "girlfriend" months after that one rainy day in August. Then, it became my wife. I was a married man-- one who kept far away from my lousy brother with his lousy, high-paying salary. None of that mattered anymore, not even him-- I got to experience kissing her every morning, and afternoon, and night. I claimed every inch of her skin as mine in a vow beyond the aisle.

She was my angel. My lantern.

I know now I wasn't the only one who thought so.

I'd been out running errands. Getting flowers. Getting those chocolates she liked. A coffee with two sugars, one creamer. I was on top of the world and suddenly, I'd sank to the bottom. There, in a booth in that stupid coffee corner, was her. Her, and some man with a lot of hair. They didn't see me, but oh- I saw them. I neglected my coffee at the counter and flew my heartbroken ass straight home.

I waited.

She came home. I demanded an answer. As my angel tried to plea her innocence, I saw them- "love bites", and they weren't mine. We hadn't made love in at least two weeks. Soon, I found it to be pleading- begging for an answer!

And her response? Golden.

She replied with the iced demand for a divorce.

I recall back to "anger". I must've gone blind, see-- all I know is my hands wrapped around that beautiful, slender neck of hers, and her wings had snapped like my attitude. It took me a moment to realize exactly what I'd done, because I was too confused by the sudden darkness for it to all click.

I'd extinguished my own lantern.

Everything was dark and I felt no sopping sheets of fleece. I tried to fix it- honest to God, I did! I suppose there's no fixation for the coldness that is Death, though. Google had no answers, and neither did I.

I had nothing.

2 o'clock A.M, I'd slipped my sleeping beauty and I into our car and drove. Past the intersections and lights, past the go-to stores, and past the coffee shop where it'd all began. I drove and drove until I saw the curve of the bridge, and thereof parked in a crooked position. What will they do? Ticket me?

Whatever. It doesn't matter. I'm understanding now that all angels are doomed to fall, and Fate demands to be met. Here I stand, with my beautiful angel in my arms, and Fate waits in the water as I prepare to leap into their's. This note is sloppy, smudged, but it's a note.

I'm sure it'll answer all your questions.

-Sincerely yours and forever more in the pits of Hell,

[Smudged Ink]