Good Friday morning one and all. Today is a puffy eyed morning for me. The rain has brought up the mold and the mold has brought up the puff. This is a day for coffee and the cold face masks I keep in the fridge. But before we get to either, lets get tucked into the morning prompt. It’s the last one of the week so let’s give it or best shots. Writing tools at the ready? Timer set for 15 minutes? Fabulous, let’s roll.
okay this may be my favorite prompt this entire week. Somehow I always do better with the really short prompts. I suspect i am going to spend the weekend figuring this story out.
Friday, February, 25th: The coffee was cold.
The coffee was cold. While Karl might have been there earlier, he certainly wasn’t there now. Mike sniffed the air. He wasn’t getting the scent of a freshly brewed pot. The cup was full and the Mr. Coffee set to the side had a pot halfway full. Mike walked over to the pot and carefully touched the side of the glass carafe. Like the coffee on the desk, it too was cold.
Mike nodded and stepped back surveying the entire space.
There wasn’t much of it. The bed was a twin size and pushed into the corner, a cheap electric alarm clock placed on the window sill and angled towards the bed. The cord stood out, black and snake like as it crossed the yellowed wall to reach the outlet below.
The bed was small, but the sheets were crisp and pulled taut over the mattress. The pillow was fluffed and the solitary blanket folded neatly across the bottom of the bed. Mike suspected that if he took out a ruler he would find the blanket perfectly aligned.
Across the room was a small book case. The coffee pot was placed on top, a small box of individual sugar packets next to it. Beside the box of sweetness was a napkin folded as carefully as the blankets on the bed. Atop the pristine white napkin rested a spoon, also washed and set in readiness.
The shelves below held not books, but folded clothes, the shelves serving as a wardrobe. The top shelf had six shirts folded and neatly stacked. Next to it was a stack of five trousers. The shelf below had six sets of socks, each neatly paired with its partner and laid flat and waiting. The third shelf had six folded undershirts and six folded pairs of boxer shorts. The final shelf held only scuff marks. Mike guessed that was where Karl sashed his shoes when they weren’t on his feet.
The five pants caused a momentary frown until Mike spotted the missing pair hung behind the sink. They had a wet spot on them along with the faded remains of the ink stain Karl was no doubt trying to remove from the leg. Aside from the coffee cup, full and waiting on the small desk, the pants were the only thing out of place. There was one dish, one cup and one bowl stacked in the drying rack next to the sink. Mike could see the knife and fork, a match for the spoon by the coffee pot, placed next to them.
‘A place for everything and everything in it’s place,” Mike thought to himself.
They were words Karl always lived by. The fact that he was still living by them means that he hadn’t changed all that much, at least not where it counted.
“Despite everything,” Mike muttered. It was somewhat disconcerting. The world Karl inhabited altered so much that it was unrecognizable, yet Karl maintained the same habits here that he always had. The continuity should have been heartening, after all, he needed the old Karl back. Yet here it seemed strangely out of place.
‘Perhaps it’s the vomit and trash on the stairwell,’ Mike thought. The hall way and stairs leading up to Karl’s one room apartment were disgusting. The scent alone nearly knocked Mike out. Here there was no stench. Mike in haled deeply. Here there was the scent of lilacs. “Now how’d he manage that?” Mike asked himself as he looked around for the source of the scent.
Ten til Midnight 