A Perfectly Good Cup of Coffee
***Disclaimer: I got this idea from Pinterest, an exercise where you write a 20 word sentence, then a 19 word sentence, and so on, ending the story with one word.***
***Note: All of these won’t have multiple versions; this was my first exercise and I couldn’t decide which one I liked best so I included them all.***
—
Version 1
On his way to his usual dining chair, Jesse poured a cup of fresh hot coffee into his favorite mug.
As he settled into his favorite seat, he clutched the mug with both hands nervously as he sat, waiting.
Knowing that Allie hated the strong smell, Jesse couldn’t help feeling spiteful after the ugly fight they had.
He braced himself as she stormed down the stairs and hallway in a huff to the kitchen.
“Are you trying to get a rise out of me?” Allie demanded, anger in her eyes.
“That depends,” he replied, meeting her gaze as he said, “Are you ready to talk?”
“Like hell I’m ready to talk,” she muttered as she stomped across the kitchen.
“Right,” he offered sarcastically, “I forgot you don’t like to talk about feelings.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped back, turning to face him.
“You said it was fine, but it’s clearly not,” he replied.
“Okay,” she surrendered, hands in the air. “It’s not fine.”
“Then why’d you go to bed upset?” he asked.
“I didn’t know what to say,” she replied.
“How do I prove that nothing happened?”
“See, that’s just it. You can’t.”
“I’d never hurt you, Allie.”
“You promise?” she whispered.
“I swear, Allie.”
“Okay then.”
“C’mere.”
—
Version 2
Jesse grabbed his favorite mug off the shelf, setting it down with a light thud before he filled it up.
With a sharp inhale, he breathed in the aroma and prepared for the storm that he knew was coming.
As the coffee brewed, he thought about how much Allie hated the stuff, and how she would react.
This will set her off, he thought as he waited for her to storm into the kitchen.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Allie demanded, gesturing to the coffee pot and Jesse’s mug.
“What does it look like?” he asked, gesturing to the cup in front of him.
“It looks like you have a death wish,” she shot back, eyeing the coffee.
“And it looks like you still aren’t over last night,” he replied coolly.
“Oh, and you are?” she snapped back, gesturing to the coffee pot.
“Does it matter what I think or how I feel, honestly?”
“Honestly right now not really,” she replied, her words sharp.
“Oh I see,” he snapped, so you’re the victim.”
“Don’t you dare do that,” she snapped back.
“Well you’re being pretty unfair —” he started.
“How could you lie to me?”
“I didn’t lie to you —”
“Lied, withheld, same thing.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Too bad.”
“Whatever.”
—
Version 3
Jesse could already hear her agitated footsteps descending the stairs as he poured himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee.
Taking a deep breath, he readied himself as he settled into his usual dining chair, awaiting her dramatic entrance.
Allie would no doubt be fuming about the smell, about his disregard for her strong distaste of it.
She appeared right on schedule, her scowl of disapproval directed at him as he clutched his mug.
“Is there any particular reason why you want to piss me off?” she demanded, eyes narrowed.
“No particular reason,” he replied as he raised his eyebrows and looked at her expectantly.
“You really wanna do this?” she asked, a silent warning, eyes wild with ferocity.
“Now is just as good a time as any,” he offered, playing innocent.
“Fine, let’s talk about why you’re such a pain in the ass.”
“Oh, I’m the pain in the ass, huh?” Jesse shot back.
“You’re being petty,” Allie retorted, pointing a finger at him.
“I’m being petty?” he replied, incredulous at the accusation.
“Yes, and you’re the one in the wrong.”
“Wait, is this about the work thing?”
“You didn’t mention she was there.”
“Didn’t know I had to.”
“Whatever, just forget it.”
“Look, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“C’mon —”
—
Version 4
Sighing loudly, Allie stomped down the stairs and into the kitchen, sickened by the unbearably strong smell of fresh coffee.
Jesse was where she always found him in the morning, sitting in his usual dining chair, mug in hand.
Allie knew the coffee was out of pure spite, considering that he knew how much she hated it.
As she stood in the entryway, arms crossed in blatant disapproval, Jesse stirred in his seat, uneasy.
“Morning,” he said nonchalantly as he met her accusatory gaze, pretending nothing was out of sorts.
“All you have to say is ‘Morning?’” she shot back, nodding towards the coffee pot.
“Oh,” she said, arms folded across her chest, “This is about last night then.”
“You might be onto something there,” he replied, his voice sarcastic and cold.
She sighed, dropping her arms as she said, “Okay, so let’s talk.”
Jesse slid his mug to the side and said, “Come sit.”
Reluctantly, she walked over and flounced into the adjacent chair.
“Why don’t you trust me?” he asked, eyes averted.
“I did before you withheld information,” she replied.
“I didn’t know I was withholding anything.”
“‘Just a work thing,’ with her.”
“Honestly, that’s all it was.”
“Okay, then I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.”
“Love you.”
“Yeah.”
—
Version 5
With a loud sigh, Allie stomped down the stairs to the kitchen, where Jesse was brewing a pot of coffee.
As she walked down the hall into the kitchen, she prepared for round two of the argument from yesterday.
Using the added spiteful act of his brewing of coffee as fuel, she stormed into the room, fuming.
She rounded the corner, slamming her fist into the door frame and narrowing her eyes, openly furious.
Jesse jumped at the sound, evidently caught off guard as he said, “The Hell’s your problem?”
“My problem? What’s your problem?” she demanded, stalking across the kitchen to the coffee pot.
She hastily yanked it off the burner, tipped it over the sink, and poured.
Setting the pot on the counter with a clang, she turned to him.
“This is clearly about last night,” she said in an irritated tone.
“That was a perfectly good pot of coffee,” he muttered quietly.
“Screw your coffee!” she exclaimed, closing the distance between them.
“You’re just trying to irritate me, right?” she asked.
“I just want you to talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“That you believe me,” he pleaded.
“I just don’t trust her.”
“What are you saying?”
“I can’t, Jesse.”
“Can’t what?”
“Allie?”
—
Version 6
A wave of irritation washed over Allie as she woke up to the smell of coffee, no doubt Jesse’s doing.
Knowing how much she hated the stuff and that he was doing it spitefully made her even more upset.
Furious, Allie descended the stairs two at a time, stomping all the way down and through the hallway.
When she reached the kitchen, the overpowering smell conjured a mixture of nausea and frustration inside her.
She stared at him, hand on her hip, waiting for an explanation, the seconds dragging on.
Breaking the silence first, she threw up her hands and said, “What the Hell, Jesse?”
With a casual shrug, Jesse eyed her as he said, “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb,” she shot back, “I know you’re not over last night.”
“You caught me,” he said, staring down at his already lukewarm coffee.
“Well let’s have it then,” she demanded, leaning against the wall.
“You went to bed angry last night, didn’t wanna talk.”
“Well I didn’t know what to say,” she shrugged.
“Look, there’s nothing going on,” he said firmly.
“I wish I could believe that, Jesse.”
He sighed in response, shoulders slumped.
“What do we do then?”
“I just don’t know.”
The coffee remained.
Mug full.
Cold.
—
Version 7
Jesse could already hear her agitated footsteps descending the stairs as he poured himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee.
With a sharp inhale, he breathed in the aroma and prepared for the storm that he knew was coming.
She would no doubt be fuming about the smell, about his disregard for her strong distaste of it.
Allie appeared right on schedule, her scowl of disapproval directed at him as he clutched his mug.
“Morning,” he said nonchalantly as he met her accusatory gaze, pretending nothing was out of sorts.
“All you have to say is ‘Morning?’” Allie shot back, nodding towards the coffee pot.
“Oh,” she added, arms folded across her chest, “This is about last night then.”
“You might be onto something there,” he replied, his voice sarcastic and cold.
Allie sighed, dropping her arms as she said, “Okay, so let’s talk.”
Jesse gestured to the table with his mug and said, “Sit.”
Reluctantly, Allie walked over and flounced into the adjacent chair.
“Why don’t you trust me?” he asked, eyes averted.
“I did before you withheld information,” she replied.
“I didn’t know I was withholding anything.”
“You didn’t mention she was there.”
“Didn’t know I had to.”
“Whatever, just forget it.”
The coffee remained.
Completely untouched.
Cold.
THE END