C-CUTC-007
Barista: Jean-Marc Chausson
Date: Dec-6-2019
Receipt: C-CUTC-007
Subject: Clean Up
The fire had not taken everything.
The walls still stood—charred and broken, barely recognizable. The floor was uneven, a mosaic of melted laminate and splintered wood. The air carried the thick stink of smoke and something worse—the acrid, sickly-sweet rot of blight flame, lingering far beyond its welcome.
I had seen this before. I had smelled it before. I had survived it before.
But this time?
There was no ███████ standing beside me. No Felix to assure me we could rebuild. No ████…
This time, there was only me.
Ha. What an ugly, selfish thought. I wasn’t alone. The others moved around me. Jackie—█████████ ██ ███ ██████, ███████ ███████ ███ ████████ ████ ████ █████ ███ ███████ █████. █ █████ ████ ████ ███ ████, ██ █ ████ ██████ █████ ███████. Julius—██████████ ██ ███ ████, █████████ ████ ███ ██████ █████████ ███ ██████, ██ █████. Jenni—███ █████ ██████████ ██████ ████ ███ ████ ██ ██ █████ ████████.
And me?
I was only here to say goodbye.
██ ████ ██████. ██ ████ █████████ ██████.
I have never been religious. Not really. But in that moment, I prayed.
Not to God. Not to ████.
To them.
To ███████. To Felix. To Nikki and Aelan. To all the others who had burned.
If they were still here, trapped in the embers, I hoped they could hear me. I hoped they knew I would have traded places with them if I could.
And since I cannot—I will continue on for them.
I will see this wrong righted.
C’est mon serment sacré.
Decaffeinate Receipt
“Oh mine love lost. To shower you in kisses again, ver-y tenderly, yours.”
Poetry Trivia | 2 Words