The break room was finally quiet
as Frank entered. He needed his usual morning cup of coffee to build up his
strength. The room had been too busy
earlier and Frank didn’t want to deal with the cluster of all the others
crammed in there, reaching for creamers and sugar and stirrers over each other.
It was like pigs at a trough. So he waited a little until the coast was clear.
As he entered he saw a lone figure sitting at the one available break room
table, staring blankly at an empty coffee mug. It was January St. August, one
of the chosen.
“I woke up this morning and I couldn’t find my wings,” said January St.
August.
Frank did a double check of the room to see if there was anyone else
present. January St. August had never spoken to him before.
“What do you mean,” asked Frank.
“I opened my eyes, rubbed the
sleep off my face, threw the covers off myself, stood up and stretched and I
realized that my wings were gone. They were just gone!”
Frank noticed that indeed
January St. August’s giant angelic wings were missing.
“I had to take the bus here this
morning. Do you know how embarrassing it is for me to have to take the bus,” said January St. August.
“Well, no. I mean, I take the
bus every day. I’m sure it wasn’t a big deal. I’m sure no one noticed,” said
Frank.
“Not. A. Big. Deal,” said January
St. August, “Well, that’s just rich. You’re some kind of funny guy hm? The
office comedian? You’re the wise cracker,” questioned January St. August.
“No, no, not at all. I’m just,
you know, saying that it probably wasn’t… you know, that it wasn’t anything
that anybody noticed,” stammered Frank.
January St. August looked back
down at the coffee mug on the break room table. Frank paused and lifted the
coffee pot off the warmer. It had barely a sip left in the bottom. He’d forgotten
that along with being pigs, his co-workers refused to make more coffee. Frank cringed and looked at January St.
August.
“Do you want the last little bit
of coffee before I make more,” offered Frank.
January St. August nodded. Frank
stepped toward the table and poured the last remaining coffee into the empty
mug.
“Thanks. Sorry I blew up at you,”
said January St. August.
“No problem,” said Frank.
Frank went to the cupboard and
took out the coffee filters and the coffee grounds and started to prepare a new
brew. He didn’t want to make any further acknowledgement of January St. August,
look in that direction or make the mistake of engaging in any further
conversation.
“I mean, where could then have
gone? I looked under the bed, through all the blankets, the closets, the kitchen;
I just don’t know where my wings could have gone. There weren’t even any
feathers left in the bed when I got up,” said January St. August.
Frank looked back at January St.
August and just sort of nodded. He didn’t know what to say. Frank had never
lost his wings so he wasn’t sure how to relate.
“I mean, what did I do to make
Him so mad,” asked January St. August.
January St. August’s eyes were
wet with tears and Frank really felt the sadness that was filling the room. He
looked at the coffee maker, slowly drip filling the coffee pot. Frank shifted his weight back and forth on
his heels and tried to avoid January St. August’s sad eyes.
“Yeah, I’m sorry to bother you.
I just, you know, just haven’t said anything to anybody about it really,” said
January St. August.
“It’s… it’s okay,” said Frank, “I’m
sure it’ll be okay.”
The coffee maker gurgled as it
dripped the last of the fresh brew into the coffee pot. Frank took it off the
burner and filled his mug. He added a little cream and sugar and stirred it all
together.
“Well,” said Frank, “I hope you’re
day gets better. Talk to you soon.”
Frank exited the break room,
leaving January St. August to stare sadly at the coffee mug on the break room
table.
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