Photo by fran hogan on Unsplash

Holding her breath, she waited for her husband of seven years to get out of the way. He stood in front of the Keurig, fussing over which noon flavor was best. She just wanted to put her lunch salad together. Time was short and now he was a road block.

Her video conference call was in forty-two minutes, a fact lost on her husband of seven years. Blechhhhh. The Keurig spewed French Roast into his glass mug, upon which were etched the words “Stay Cozy.” 

He drank from the cup every day but refused to wash it, which made no sense to her. Now there was a brownish coffee glaze forming at the bottom of the mug. When asked about the residue, he’d say “It adds to the flavor.”

She looked at the green LED clock on the microwave oven above the stove. Thirty-eight minutes until her meeting. Her husband shuffled off from his Keurig corner, then turned to smile at her, apologizing with his eyes. She forced a smile and pictured how the next seven years would go.