"Coffee Break-Up".
“Hiya baby. You were fucking filthy last…” He
looked around but she was nowhere to be seen.
He saw the pan beginning to bubble on the stove
and turned off the flame, a look of confusion on his face. He could smell the
croissants in the oven. She must have gone back out to get something else.
Wrapping his towel around himself he began making the tea and coffee.
He sipped his coffee as he watched for her return
from the tall window. Eventually, once he’d drained the last of his drink, he
began to worry. She was a big girl, he thought, she’ll be okay. He plucked his
coat from the chair and returned it to the wardrobe then took the croissants
from the oven. They were burnt to a crisp. He smiled and muttered “ditzy twat”
as a light appeared in the corner of his eye, drawing his attention to the
chair. His phone? He furrowed his brow and went to collect it.
A new message from Michelle and three prior
messages. He read the notifications.
“Awww fuck!” Realisation dawned and panic filled
his belly, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
He dialed her number, he needed to explain, but
her phone went straight to voicemail.
“FUCK!”
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