Not a Morning Person

     They sat at the breakfast table.  He crunched the loud cereal; the same cereal he always ate from that annoyingly cheerful box while she clutched with both hands her warm coffee mug.  It was almost too warm to grasp but she felt if she didn’t hold on tight she would fall away like someone in the movies - just falling and falling forever.

 

     Her eyes were closed as she tried desperately to focus on the distant train whistle instead of the crunch, crunch, crunch that seemed to be getting louder almost echoing in her head, as if the crunch had become the train and she was helplessly in front of it about to be flattened. 

 

     A large part of her wanted to let go – wanted to fall far away but instead she slowly brought the cup up to her lips and as she gently blew across its steam she opened her eyes and stared at him.

     He could sense her stare and stopped eating long enough to look up from his bowl.  He flicked his tail and began to purr.  She smiled, though only slightly, and took a sip.

     Maybe the day would get better.