Hopeless Morning

One again, her hand searched for that annoying alarm button. If she could just roll over, sleep away another day with no promise.

Her bare feet curled up as they hit the cold hardwood floor, on this winter morning. She grabbed her fluffy pink robe, slipped her feet into worn slippers and shuffled aimlessly to the kitchen.

“Coffee,” she thought. “Maybe the steam of the coffee will brighten the day.”

She noticed the pattern of frost on the window as the coffee brewed. A drop of water slid down the window where the coffee pot warmed the etching of frost.

Nothing had changed, not a damned thing, Her hope melted, just like the frost on her window

6 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    brudberg said,

    What a perfect description of a dreary morning.

  2. 2

    journalplace said,

    Wow. Do you think that as long as writers write there is a hope that someone is listening?

  3. 4

    hello, this one’s short yet, full of mood and feelings. thanks for sharing… kind regards😉

  4. 5

    Cindy Marsch said,

    BeeBee, your comment about our stories being similar was on my story of the couple at breakfast looking at chores to be done out the window, but maybe you meant this story, because ours ARE very much alike–the woman getting out of bed, feeling the cold floor, coming up to the window . . . kind of eerie! Nice job. Sorry for the late comment, but I lost your comment to my moderation function, which usually doesn’t kick in, and just found it today.


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