short stories

1

"Coffee"

04:06:2015

I was having trouble deciding on which donut to get at Dunkin' Donuts. Although there was not an extraordinarily large selection, I had little experience with the almost exclusively east coast coffee shop. As the born and raised Californian I was, I could not claim to have tasted any of their exotic options, and I was not about to order a plain glazed donuts- I knew where to get those; the Krispy Kreme donut shop was 15 minutes away from my west coast abode. My eyes scanned the aisles again and again until one item caught my eye. It was a row of glazed croissants. The legendary cronut was definitely not unheard of. Once the hype of America, the cronut was now a faint memory. But New York is indeed the place for all oddities and extremities, and so there was the cronuts, safely nestled in the crooks of Dunkin' Donuts. I ended up ordering the cronut and an iced coffee, because the iced coffee was heavily advertised everywhere also and I wanted to see if it was actually the best in all of Brooklyn. After receiving my food and drink, we left. Oh, I must have forgotten to mention. I was visiting the city with my sister and my mom, as well as my mom's boyfriend named Mike. Anyways, Mike and I were the only ones out of the four of us who wanted to stop and buy anything. Mike was from Boston and he was familiarized with much of New York. His order consisted of a banana and coffee- the same as mine, with sugar and cream, only hot. As we walked along the cold streets of New York, something happened to make Mike fall forward and spill his coffee. I don't remember what exactly, whether it was a sharp gust of wind or a bustling citizen or just clumsiness, but the coffee poured out on to the sidewalk. I glanced at him for an exhaustive time of about ten seconds, unsure of what to do. My sister held his already bitten into banana and my mom held out some napkins. Mike wiped the coffee container quickly and we continued to stroll. I couldn't help but to look back and the residue, and what I saw was the light brown coffee, light with sugar and cream, filling the cracks of the Brooklyn sidewalk.