Thanks to fellow reader and writer, Joanne, I’ve found Typetrigger, a site which will give a writing prompt every four hours. Here is my first contribution for the trigger…
The Styrofoam cup flipped in slow-motion, sending the black coffee spiraling. It spewed in all directions until the cup came to a rest on the pavement where it rolled past pedestrian feet and into the gutter. I stared at it unbelieving, as if this blip in time was nothing more than a false memory, someone else’s problem. I never thought it would happen to me, but it did. The thing was, the coffee was the least of my problems. Today I was diagnosed with cancer.
And not the good kind of cancer either. Wait, let me rephrase that. Not the recoverable kind. As a woman in her sixties on the cusp of retirement, I thought I had it solved, that God would have given me the decency to live my work-free days in peace. That should teach me for putting all my eggs in one basket.
The coffee vendor looked at me and I just stood staring for-longingly at the coffee cup in the gutter. I almost pulled out the ‘I’ve got cancer card’, yes, even on the first day of diagnosis. But the young man with dimples, in the black buttoned shirt, flicked me a smile and started on making a fresh cup. Maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad after all.