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TITLE (EDIT)
Sips Of My Coffee
DESCRIPTION
-
[732 words]
AUTHOR
Piper Davenport
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
-
[June 2009]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (26)
A Sunday Story (Novelnovella Excerpt) (Short Stories) A small town loves and lies on a Sunday afternoon. [2,381 words]
Ain't You Heard? (Poetry) A self-reflecting poem. [13 words]
An Obligation In Kalamazoo (Short Stories) - [1,298 words]
Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge (Short Stories) Patricia Fudge, a chocolate-lover who suffers a breakdown after becoming fixated with a guy named Elliott, whom she stalks. After she finds out that she cannot have his affections, she decides to use ... [1,143 words]
Finding A Poem (Poetry) Writing poetry is the one of the most challenging venues of a young writer's career. Mastering the technique requires the power of language, and finding a poem somewhere in your thoughts. [13 words]
Grayfield South (Short Stories) Two families converge when tragedy strikes. [7,086 words] [Mystery]
How I Ought To Be As A Writer (Plays) - [803 words]
Let No Man Tell My Story (Non-Fiction) - [1,274 words]
Morning In Detroit (Poetry) The beauty of Detroit on a weekend morning. [354 words]
Moving Beyond The Pain (Essays) - [2,014 words]
Nighttime Babies (Short Stories) A man encounters two strange individuals on a weird Sunday night. [5,565 words] [Science Fiction]
On And Off The Wall (Essays) - [1,538 words]
Secrets From A Writer's Notebook (Short Stories) Isn't it wonderful when a writer's work is read and fiction becomes reality? It makes you wonder whose following you, who are your "true fans." Lovely is the new sarcasm. [257 words]
Sestina!The Look! (Poetry) A woman walking in an inner-city neighborhood after a rainstorm questions the disconnection she feels from others of different backgrounds. She undergoes an epiphany that challenges her preconceived n... [306 words]
Sing The White Note Black (Novel Excerpt) (Short Stories) An aspiring jazz musician comes of age in 1950's Detroit. [11,701 words]
The Cat And The Mouse (Short Stories) An adventure short story. [1,367 words] [Adventure]
The Far Side Of My Room (Poetry) A writer's journey. [228 words]
The Far Side Of The Room (Poetry) - [228 words]
The Man Called Daddy (Novella Excerpt) (Novels) - [5,589 words]
The Motown Chronicles: Sing The White Note Black (Novel Excerpt) (Novels) A jazz musician comes of age in 1950's Detroit. [11,701 words]
The Nightmare Of Henry Dudds (Short Stories) This is a novel excerpt from The Motown Chronicles: Sing the White Note Black. I have decided to include this story in the trilogy that I am working on after all. [3,344 words]
The Other Side Of Me (Short Stories) This story was inspired by the darker side of my hometown of Detroit, Michigan. [1,456 words]
The Sidewalk (Poetry) A woman sees her neighborhood for how it really is. [396 words]
The Theory Of Knowledge According To A Woman Named Righteous (Poetry) A woman is hearbroken over her decaying hometown. [224 words] [Romance]
The Weight Of His Hands (Poetry) - [13 words]
Three Different Ways To Tell A Lie (Short Stories) A father finds out that his son is not what he seems. [1,177 words]
Sips Of My Coffee
Piper Davenport

I didn't know at the time that I met her, that she would change my life forever. When I first met her, all I could think to myself, was Huh? Where did this person come from? Why has God forsaken me, and send them in my life? What could they possibly have to offer me?
I think of all of these things as I sit in the coffeehouse, sipping on a hot chocolate and watching the big, giant television that sits there like someone had just sucked in their guts, took in a huge breath and just spit out this television.

Where you goin?
I gotta go study, Ma.
Where are you goin', and when will you be back?
I'm goin' to that coffeehouse 'roun the corner. Be back in a few.
Okay, well be careful and make sure you take the cell phone with you, and make sure you park my car at the end of the parking lot, cause I don't want any of those damned no-drivin' teenagers to tear up my precious car!
Okay, Ma! Got it.

Books. Miles and miles, rows and rows of endless books that moves up and down the library walls like a fisherman moving on a dock to catch bait. It doesn't seem like it is going to happen, and then it does. There is nothing greater than the feeling of completion.

I sip my hot chocolate and look at the books on the library walls in the coffeehouse. I want to throw my glass up against the window just to get a reaction out of the people there. Everyone is ignoring me, and I wish I were someplace where I was the center of attention. Since I know that will never happen I turn my face back in time:
I'm grateful for you everyday; you know that, don't you?
No, I didn't know that.
Well, I do. I love you. Baby, I love you.
Boy, I love you too.
I've never loved a girl like you.
What you mean?
You know the whole black-white thing. Not that it matters. I just love the way I feel when I'm with you.
Me too, babe, whateva you say.
Her name is Jasmine. I met her at the library.
Oh, yeah, what does she look like? Is she pretty? I know she's a brunette.
What makes you think she's a brunette?
Because I know you, Harry, man and you love brunettes.
Well, she's definitely a brunette.
Oh, yeah. What color are her eyes. Are her eyes blue, gray?
They're brown, or black I think.
What's wrong with you, man? You're acting funny.
I'm in love with this girl, she's beautiful, but . . .
But what?
She's black.
So?
Yeah, well, you know how my family feels about that.
Damn, your family sucks on that. They can really bite sometimes.
I can't even bring her home but to hell with them, you know.

I look out the window. This hot chocolate has a soothing, tranquil effect on me. It gives me a high that not even a marijuana cigarette can. I make love to my hot chocolate like only a burnt tongue can. This movie on the television is really interesting. I see the people in it. I see Jasmine and another girl. They are speaking about me:
His name is Harry, and I met him at that coffeehouse.
Harry? What kind of name is Harry?
Harry is a name. It's a guy's name, and he has it.
What's wrong with him? He got kids?
No, and why somethin' got to be wrong with him? Why can't we just kick it?
Cause I know you, and I know somethin' up. I can feel it. Your number came up today.

I wish life were like a cup of hot chocolate, right when you first taste it you get your tongue burned the shit out of you. It burns so bad; you want to jump up, say, What the fuck! and slap the waitress across the face for talking on the phone while making it, and not paying attention to it. Nonetheless, it don't matter because it's slowly disappearing. Your sips of it get bigger and bigger, and the hot chocolate gets smaller and smaller. Television is like that too, so why can't life be like that? I don't know much, but nothing could be better than what's going on right now. My hot chocolate is gone, and I don't have enough money to get another one. Oh, well. I'll just sit here, put my spoon inside of my cup, and sip the tiny specks of it.

 

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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2009 Piper Davenport
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
July 2009
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1191
 

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