God's Grammar: A Novel by Mooney Mick

Author:Mooney, Mick [Mooney, Mick]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Lightview Media
Published: 2012-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

Does God even care that I'm alone and suffering?

*

Packing the coffee holster to the perfect level, God lifted the lever, building up water pressure atop the hard-pressed grind. Slowly he pulled the lever down, forcing the steaming water through the coffee, causing a thick espresso to drain slowly out of each side of the double shooter. A golden crème began to surface in each cup.

“These days everyone is out buying push button espresso makers. Fully automatic. What a tragedy! They end up missing out on the joy of the manual process. Sure it takes longer, but that's actually the best part. Everyone has become so obsessed with getting to the destination as quick as possible, but when it comes to making a great espresso, much like life itself, one has to realize that the journey is the destination. The whole process is to be enjoyed.”

She laughed. “You really love your coffee, don't you?”

“What's not to love?” he replied.

Next, he foamed the milk. No bubbles. It had to be thick, not fluffy. He added the milk into the two cups, ending the pour with a slight wiggle of his hand, producing a heart on each coffee.

“Wow, you even do coffee art. Are you a barista by trade?”

“No, just a coffee enthusiast; but I am an artist, so I guess that helps.”

“Really, that's interesting. What's your medium?”

“Actually, I don't specialize. I prefer to create whatever I feel inspired to create. I just go with the flow.”

“Oh, I see,” she said. “You have the same coffee machine as James Bond at home and you're purposefully vague about what you actually do for a living. I think I've got you worked out.” She turned and did the best evil villain impersonation she could muster: “You're an international man of mystery, aren't you?”

God smiled. She was closer to the truth than she realized.

Returning to her normal posture, she glanced at the old, run down coat he was wearing, “Well mystery-artist-man, perhaps you should focus your inspiration towards making a new coat. No offense, but I think this one is officially dead.”

He laughed.

“Funny you should say that, I'm actually working on a new one at the moment.” He picked up the two coffees, explaining, “Now, it's not only important to enjoy the process of making such an exquisite coffee, you also have to take the time to enjoy drinking it too, with good company, whenever possible.”

Looking at the coffee table just to the side of the counter, he nodded in its direction and asked, “Shall we?”

She took a quick look around the store. Still empty.

“Sure, why not.”

As they were making their way to the coffee table, once again she caught him glancing at the wall clock.

“But, do you have the time?”

He raised one of the cups under his nose, closing his eyes ever so briefly as he took in the aroma. He opened his eyes and smiled.

“For moments like this, I always make time.”

*

Sam's mind thumped, chiseling away at the edges of reason. Whereas his mind was tired, his stomach was rioting, demanding retribution.

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