10 by Russ Crossley

Author:Russ Crossley [Crossley, Russ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf
Publisher: 53rd Street Publishing
Published: 2015-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Cover art copyright © Fotandy | Dreamstime.com

In Search of the Perfect Cup

Trevor Watkins sat prone in front of his Mac his fingers poised over the keyboard staring at the empty page. The gray cursor at the left side of the screen flashed intermittently as if to urge his long, narrow fingers to write. Something anything. Instead, it reminded him of his failure. His advance was nearing depletion and he had nothing to show for it. At least very little his publisher would appreciate.

The only thing interrupting the silence in his study came from his extra large tumbler of cola. It popped and fizzed to its own drummer oblivious to his frustration. The air was filled with the odor of sweet cola.

In conducting his research, Trevor had traveled to every country and city on Earth to find the perfect cup.

Not in the Paris café’s or the Istanbul coffee houses or the London bistro’s or the finest New York restaurants or even in the Mall of America. It seemed nowhere on God’s blue Earth was the perfect cup to be found. He’d drunk so much swill that he was certain his blood had been replaced by black ooze. He was also sure he’d die of a coffee overdose before he finished. Either that or his editor would kill him. Of the two options open to him right now he preferred the latter. Wally would kill him for sure.

The editor of the largest publishing house in De Moines last e-mail had made Wally’s intent plain. “Write or die” was as clear as anyone ever got about such things. And if he knew Wally Vesper as well as he did, he meant what he said.

You’d think after three successful coffee table books he should be able to write this one with ease. But he was stymied. And after all the project’s he’d completed this one should be the easiest yet. It fulfilled his life-long dream. This was the reason he’d become a writer in the first place.

His hands dropped to his side then he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his pine work desk and eyed the screen as if it were his sworn enemy. Damn it, he’d interviewed thousands of people from every walk-of-life. Their eyes were lit by an inner passion when they told him where to find the perfect cup of the black elixir he called coffee. Busmen, waiters, construction workers, office workers, celebrities, coffee company executives, CEO’s, dishwashers, they all said the same thing, “It was the best cup I ever tasted.” Unfortunately, none measured up.

Maybe what he’s sought for so long didn’t exist? But how could that be? He’d had one, once. The most perfect cup he’d ever tasted had been only the once.

It was so long ago he could just barely recall that heavenly flavor. Even today, when he closed his eyes he swore he could still taste the aromatic flavor of it when the coffee mingled with cream and sugar and danced over his taste buds.

It was the time when he was a kid that his Mom had made him what was to be her last cup of coffee.

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