The Coffee Maker (Writers Craft Class Assignment)

 * The first draft was written because my cousin told me to write about a coffee maker. Then I revised it and used it for my writers craft’s  10 journal entry assignment

THE COFFEE MAKER

 

I woke up. It was time to go to work. Ugh, I needed coffee.

I struggled out of bed and went to the kitchen. I poured water into the coffee maker, fitted a filter into it, then, as I scooped in four spoons of ground coffee beans, I smiled as the scent of coffee filled my flaring nostrils. Ahhhh. How could I live without coffee? If I didn’t have coffee, I wouldn’t be able to step out of the apartment without falling asleep even before I locked the door.

  The smile froze on my lips when I switched on the button that brewed the coffee. It didn’t light up red as it usually did. I switched it off, then on, then off, then on, and then off and on again with a growing speed and desperation.

  I screamed. Or I think I did. My heartbeat was thumping so loudly in my ears that I couldn’t hear anything.

  This can’t be happening, I told myself as I checked every nook and cranny of the coffee maker to see what was wrong. My head was screaming: I NEED COFFEE, I NEED COFFEE. The nearest coffee shop was miles away in the opposite direction of my workplace, and none of the convenience stores nearby sold coffee the last time I had checked.

  I racked my mind for a solution of how to get my coffee, and then my brain lit up with a brilliant idea. Some might have considered my idea to be stupid and illegal, but I preferred to call it . . . daring, rash, adventurous, brave.

  I dressed myself and with the bag of ground African coffee beans between my arm and side, I stepped out into the balcony of my apartment. My neighbour, who is a complete stranger to me, lived next to me with a metal partition to separate our balcony territories. Leaning over the railing that kept me from falling to my death, I looked over to my neighbour’s side. All was clear.

  Carefully lifting myself onto the railing, I balanced myself gripping onto the edge of the partition. I took a deep breath and stretched out my right leg far enough for my feet to rest onto the railing next door. Still holding onto the edge of the partition with the bag of African coffee bean between my arm, I managed to shift myself all onto my neighbour’s side of the balcony. My knees wobbled. Afraid I’d faint backwards and end up splattered on the grass far below, I quickly jumped down to the paved floor of my neighbour’s balcony.

  My heart brimmed with triumph and my victorious smile stretched from one eye to the next. I held the handle of the balcony door and it was yielded open easily when I tugged. I walked in, glancing from side to side lest anyone see me. I silently apologized to the unseen owner of the apartment for having stepped in with my shoes still on. The house was dark, I could hear snoring somewhere in the other rooms. I crept into the kitchen.

  I swore harshly and angrily stomped the floor when I couldn’t find a coffee maker anywhere. What sort of specie was this neighbour of mine who didn’t even have a coffee maker? Did he/she/it not drink coffee then? Shaking my head in wonder, I pondered what to do next.

  I looked about the stranger’s home and ended up finding bedcovers neatly folded up in the closet. I took it, let it loose with a shake, then tied it tightly into a knot after knot to the railing. I tugged hard at it a few times before climbing over the railing then lowering myself down to the next floor.

  I jumped down into the balcony, slid the door open, and walked in. Slowly, with my heart pacing so fast that I thought it would jump out and run away, I made my way over to the kitchen. I could hear drum rolls in my ears when I stepped in. I held my breath, looked around, and my sigh of relief came out like a wave when I saw a coffee maker on the counter. It looked so majestic, sitting so elegantly by the sink.

  Smiling and humming I brewed myself some coffee. Pouring it into a random cup nearby, I took it, left a note to the owner that I would return the cup back in the evening, and took it out the door with me. I sipped it, then let out a sigh of complacency.

  “Now I can start my day,” I said to myself.  
 

 

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2 Comments

Filed under Short Stories

2 responses to “The Coffee Maker (Writers Craft Class Assignment)

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