The Last Cup Before the Curtain

Every day, I make hundreds of coffees.

Some black. 

Some white with milk. 

Some with sugar, 

some with nothing at all.


And occasionally  a dash of syrup,

sprinkle chocolate or cinnamon on top. 

A small act of defiance. 

A mask for the monotony.

A garnish for the grief.


And I wonder

How many of these customers are living in the shadows? 

How many are content? 

How many are just surviving?


Is this cup for enjoyment? 

A ritual? 

Or a last attempt to give their soul a boost before stepping back into the world?


If it’s for enjoyment, 

I’ll serve you and hold on to a bit of that joy. 

If it’s for a boost, 

I’ll piggyback and boost myself a little too.

And if it’s your last attempt to keep things together, 

I’ll serve you my best coffee 

and give your back a gentle push.


What you’re going through is not worth coming to the shadows. 

Stay in the light. 

I hope my coffee helps you get through all the things you never talk about.


I serve it whatever way you like

Hot. 

Cold.

With some garnish on top.


Quietly. 

With my well rehearsed smile.

Comments

  1. My morning coffee convinces me I have my life together.

    It’s lying, but I let it.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I hope one day it’s not lying anymore—just gently reminding you of how far you’ve come. Let every cup be a quiet pat on the back, saying you’re doing good. Life may not be perfect, but for those who care about you, life without you would be far more imperfect.

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