Coffee

By Arunanshu Chatterjee

A woman makes her husband coffee. He does not drink it.

He says,” What’s the purpose of making coffee if it tastes pathetic?”

“What’s wrong,” the woman asks.

But the man does not answer.

He wears his tie. Moves right past her.

He opens the door. Takes his keys.

And he catches his chest just before he leaves.

He waits for a moment.

And his wife asks if he wants some water.

He does not say anything, but holds his chest even harder.

He drops to his knees. Curls on the floor.

His wife calls out his name.

But he does not respond.

She rushes to get help and starts CPR.

But his skin is cold,

He had died really fast.

Suddenly, there is the taste of coffee.

The man opens his eyes. His wife is ahead of him.

“What’s wrong,” she asks and there’s coffee in his hand.

He has a tie around his neck.

His keys are by the stand.

“What’s going on,” his wife asks.

“I think I am going to have a heart attack.”

Panic catches her eyes. She runs to call an ambulance.

He waits by the door. Trying to make sense of what he saw.

One minute passes.

Then the next.

And when the third minute arrives, he feels the heat in his chest.

And by the time his wife returns, he is already dead.

The taste of coffee again.

His wife’s loving eyes.

“What’s wrong,” she asks.

“Is the coffee not nice?”

“I need to go to a hospital,” and runs outside the door.

His wife runs behind him.

But they do not make it out the apartment.

He is lying on the floor.

His wife is screaming his name.

It is the same outcome all over again.

Coffee.

One final time.

His wife asks, “What’s wrong? Is the coffee not nice.”

“The coffee’s perfect,” he says, and takes a pause.

Then he looks at her. Admires her.

And asks, “Have you had anything since you woke up?”

She smiles.

Her cheeks dimple when she does.

“You are the one who has to go to work. You have got to hurry up.”

“I don’t think I’m going today,” he smiles and holds her hand.

“Whatever happens next, I don’t want you to be afraid.

Do you understand?”

Just as she is about to talk, he holds her waist and gently sits on the floor.

One minute passes.

Then the second.

He shuts his eyes.

And when he opens them again, he is in heaven.

He watches her cry his name from above.

And understands the purpose of his life,

Was to show her, she was loved.

By Arunanshu Chatterjee