Richard Cushing, the seasoned stockbroker, shuffled into the cozy kitchen of their Point Clair home. The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains, casting a warm glow on the worn tiles. Edith, his wife of three decades, stood by the vintage coffee maker, her hands deftly measuring out the grounds.
"Richard," she said, her voice a gentle melody, "your coffee is almost ready."
He leaned against the counter, watching her. Edith was a study in grace—the silver strands in her chestnut hair, the lines etched by laughter and sorrow. They'd weathered storms together—the market crashes, the family dramas—but this quiet moment felt like an oasis.
"Thank you, my love," Richard replied, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You always know how I like it."
Edith poured the steaming brew into his favorite mug—the one with the chipped handle. She added a dash of cinnamon, just as he preferred. "Cream or sugar today?"
He considered, then shook his head. "Black, please."
As she handed him the mug, their fingers brushed—a fleeting connection that spoke volumes. Richard sipped, the bitterness awakening memories. They'd met in this very kitchen—the scent of coffee, the promise of forever. Edith had been the girl next door, her laughter echoing through the hedge.
"You know," Richard said, "I still remember that first cup you made for me."
Edith leaned against the counter, her eyes soft. "You were nervous about your job interview. I thought caffeine might help."
"It did," he confessed. "But it was your smile that sealed the deal."
They stood there, two souls entwined by caffeine and love. Richard traced the rim of the mug. "Edith, do you ever wonder how we've made it this far?"
She chuckled. "Stubbornness, mostly. And a shared love for strong coffee."
"No," he said, "it's more than that. It's the way you fix it just right—the balance of bitterness and warmth. Like us."
Edith's gaze held his. "We've had our share of bitter days, Richard. But we've brewed something beautiful, too."
He kissed her—a slow, lingering kiss that tasted of memories and promises. "I'm grateful for every cup," he murmured against her lips.
And so, in their sun-kissed kitchen, Richard and Edith sipped their coffee—the elixir of their life together. The stock market could crash, fortunes could fade, but this simple ritual—the way she fixed it just the way he liked it—was their anchor.
