Procrastination

There’s no kettle yet, so he puts a saucepan on the stove to boil, covering it with a hat meant for a larger man. He takes the pouch of coffee from the refrigerator, watches it squeal and come to life in his hands as he breaks the vacuum seal. He holds it delicately over the plunger, tapping the dark powder softly out of the packet. The mug says “Straight Teeth are Great Teeth: Pritchard and Hamilton Orthodontists.” He waits. He pours the water from the saucepan, but there’s not enough. He turns the tap on and puts in another half inch. It boils quickly. The grains of coffee cascade downwards inside the glass plunger, making a miniature sea-floor at the bottom. He plunges and pours, watching as the pure white milk in the orthodontistry mug is discoloured, first to a muddy grey, then to a rich caramel, then to the colour of his own eyes.

He adds, as always, a dash of maple syrup, then settles himself down to work.

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