A Morning Without Coffee

A man in an orange shirt sat on a weathered blue couch, an orange coffee mug sat on an end table, empty. A metallic coffee pot sat on a small wooden table nearby. A man in a black shirt with a black coffee mug approached the coffee pot. He went to fill his cup but found that there was no coffee to be had.

"Damn, out of coffee again," the man in the black shirt said.

"Yea, someone ought to fill the thing back up," replied the man in orange.

The man in black took the spot on the far end of the couch.

"It's been a coffee sort of morning," the man in black said.

"That it has."

"You hear about Cathy, from accounting?"

"She the lady that made those sugar cookies at the Christmas mixer this past year?"

"Yea I believe so."

"Those were some damn good cookies, but no."

"She died this morning, had a car wreck on the interstate on her way here."

"That's a shame. She have any family?"

"Yea I think so. Two daughters or something, both grown. She might've been divorced or that was just a rumor. I don't know."

"You never really can unless you get it from the horse's mouth. Pretty tough spot for those kids though."

"That's the truth."

"I guess we've all got our own clocks. Eventually they stop ticking."

"Mhm."

A third man in a white shirt came into the room with a white coffee mug. He went to the coffee pot and found it to be empty.

The man in the white shirt sighed. "Out of coffee."

"Yep," said the man in orange.

"Some one should fill the damn thing up," said the man in black.

Three men stood around an empty coffee pot as the minutes of the morning ticked by.