Drip. Drip. Drip.

At 5am the alarm clock of Paul T Earn went off. He was drifting back and forth between consciences and sleep awaiting the sound most people dread. His eyes opened wide and he sat straight up, taking no thought of his wife’s contorted body next to him, heavy as a stone with an orthopedic pillow jammed between her knees. He left the alarm blaring as he slipped silently through the darkness, out the bedroom door and down the staircase.

Paul sat down at the kitchen counter and placed a filter into his new Black & Decker Versabrew and scooped in some ground coffee. He closed the machine, poured in the water, and flipped the switch. The only light in the room came from that orange button; the only sound was of brewing coffee. Paul stared at each drop falling into the empty pot.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Paul was a successful lawyer and partner at his law firm. He had been married to his beautiful wife Michelle for 5 years and their son, Colin, had turned 3 last week.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Sometime during potty training, Colin had developed a passionate interest in his own feces. He became obsessed with the textures, smells, and recognizing his favorite foods inside. When Colin found there was nothing on television to watch, he would defecate into his hand and smear it on the screen. If he was bored, the white walls in his room became a canvas for his brown masterpieces. After all those extra years spent at school and all the hard days making a living to support his family, Paul would come home and clean up poop.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Paul’s mother, who had sacrificed so much from her own life to provide for Paul had recently been diagnosed with breast cancer, which day by day was spreading and draining her life away. He spent large amounts of money on advanced treatments which had no effect. He flew her over seas to see the smartest doctors of foreign countries. Nothing could help her.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Paul hardly recognized his wife anymore. She spends the majority of the day shopping and the evening doing God knows what. She would come home and undress, crawl into bed, reeking of gin and vodka, and be asleep before Paul could even say hello. Paul spent as much time as he could with Colin, but most of the parenting was done by their live in babysitter, who Colin’s first word of “mommy” was directed to.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Paul continued to stare. Suddenly the orange light went out. The room went black.

The coffee pot was full.