Calamitous

This short story graphically portrays the use/ abuse of a controlled substance. Adult supervision recommended.

My hands are shaking as I triple-check the curtains. No one can see in. I check the duct tape sealing the windows and doors. Then I walk as calmly as I can into the pantry, locking that door behind me.

Inside I pull the string to turn on the light. I can hear the electric kettle bubbling away. The water is to a boil. It's just a hair too hot. I unplug it and set the egg timer for the time it takes to cool to the right temperature.

I rub the skin of my palms together to dampen my growing craving. They are practically shaking. My hands spin the tumbler on the safe and I practically rip open the door.

Once upon a time, I kept my jewelry and cash inside the safe. Now I use it to hide my coffee and paraphernalia. I pull the french press out, caressing it and checking for damage. It is irreplaceable. I open the tightly sealed mason jar holding my stash and deeply inhale the earthy fragrance of the beans.

I measure out precisely the right amount of grounds, placing them in the device. Then I take the electric kettle and pour in the right amount of boiling water. I count off the brew time in my head as my hands crawl over each other in anticipation.

Time was up and I used the plunger. Then I pull my chipped and stained world's best boss mug from the safe. It too is a reminder of the time before. It too is now considered illegal paraphernalia. I pour the strong brew into the cup. My hands wrap around the mug embracing it as though the contents were my life's blood.

I raise the mug to my lips. Only the fact that it was too hot to drink kept me from gulping it down. I wait smelling the steamy aroma. It was almost like before. I hazard a sip and the bitter brew kisses
my tongue with memories of times now gone.

I hear a pounding on my front door and nearly drop my mug. The amplified voice of a cop made its muffled way through the walls into my sanctuary,
"This is a raid!"

I gulp down what may very well be my last cup, and I lock away my stash. After spilling a bottle of amonia on the pantry floor, I come out just in time for them to beat my door in.

The house fills with men wrapped in DEA jackets. One flashes a warrant at me before bustling me out of my home. They handcuff me and shove me in a cruiser. They would find my stash in the pantry. I would get time for that, but I doubt they will check my compost pile. I doubt they would find the twenty kilos I hid there for the cartel.

The cartel would pay for my lawyer. I would be out by Thursday.



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508 words

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YOU WON!
Congratulations! You have clearly won first place at the Coffee Calamity Round Two Contest! As the winner, you have a choice. You can choose the 2 pc coffee mug set from WDC OR, you may choose to have the gift points equivalent to the mugs to spend on whatever you choose. It is the WINNER'S choice! As soon as you let me know, I'll get your treasures to you. Thank you for your entry in the contest!

Sincerely,
Tina