The Coffee Cup

Tressa took a sip of coffee so hot that it gave her an honest reason not to speak. Elian watched her put the cup down. The reason would not last.

“I’m sorry about the shirt remark,” he said.

“You can be annoyed with me.”

“I know. I don’t want to use something kind you did as ammunition.”

She looked towards the bag on the chair. It was still open where he had looked inside. A whole evening could acquire evidence against you if you began examining it in the wrong spirit.

“Thank you,” she said.

Outside, the bicycle had gone. Somebody else stood beneath the streetlamp, reading a message. Life below the window had no obligation to wait for them to improve.

“I didn’t come here thinking you had broken a confidence,” she said. “I came wanting you to say there was no way anyone could ever be hurt by…