Cups Of Kindness

I watch the sun rise up over the glass structures that are my view to the street. It is early morning. Soon Jonas appears and unlocks the front door. He comes in whistling, like he always does. I like to watch him set his hands to work, checking the coffee machine to make sure the filters are in and full, then pushing them back in and tapping the button to start the hum as the water begins to heat and course its way through the machine to flow over the awaiting grounds and into the pot.

The scent is heavenly. That first pot. The rich aroma permeates the shop. It seems to dance over the tables and chairs as Jonas sets them to rights. He is humming now. Humming through lips that tip up in contentment. The contentment of knowing that soon the coffee will be ready. We are all waiting, waiting for something to complete us and it is so close. Coffee's first kiss.

When the coffee machine hisses and spits out the last of its water, Jonas returns behind the counter where I wait with the others. His eyes search me out. His hand is cool as he picks me up and presses his calloused fingers around my plain white ceramic form. He always chooses me; for although I seem to resemble all the others, there is one difference. One small difference and that is of a small red heart. A heart drawn there with permanent marker on the base of my surface. He smiles remembering Sasha drawing on that heart. The care she took.

"Our cup.' she told him.

He flips me over and sets me down on the counter away from my compatriots. They will wait, but not for long I am sure.

Still holding me, cradling me in his firm grasp, he slides the coffee pot out from under the filter's head and tips it towards me.

‘Good morning,’ we whisper to each other just as the lush liquid flows from her to me. We both seem to sigh in unison. Her hot liquid bathes me and my ceramic warms in her embrace.

Jonas adds a dollop of cream and one sugar packet. Spoon slides in and circles the mixture with Jonas's firm guidance. She greets me with a smile as well. This moment hangs in the balance. A balance of contented bliss as we great and savour the briefness of it.

Then Jonas sets the spoon aside, letting her wait in a chilled metal cylinder that stands erect and cold on the other side of the coffee’s machine. The cylinder does not even look our way. He is purposeful and stern. There is no emotion there. He does his job and that is all.

Jonas smiles down at me as he raises me to his lips. I feel and hear the intake of his breath, then the whispered prayer of thanks just before he presses our lips together. The brief contact sizzles as the coffee flows over my rim and into his mouth. He swallows, his lips still touching mine. We are held there as if by some magic. We transcend time. I watch his smile widen, then mellow. The coffee is good. It is doing its job.
Still cradling me, Jonas turns and leans himself against the hard cold surface of the counter. He raises his eyes to the sun’s early morning rays and smiles. There is beauty in this quiet moment.

Moving me slightly away from his lips he whispers, “today is going to be an amazing day.” And I believe him, because he is never wrong.
Our moment of quiet reflection does not last long. The door opens and the chimes tinkle the arrival of Sacha. She smiles over at us as she seems to flow into the space.

“The coffee is good?” she asks, knowing already that it is. Her fluid movement brings her forward and she steps behind the counter. Moving close to Jonas, she slips her hand over his and tips me towards her. Jonas watches her. Watches how her eyes close as her lips touch me where his had. Watches her, as she tips me and lets the coffee flow from me to her… a kind of joining. For a moment we all stand there suspended. Their hands hold me as they touch. She smiles up at him after she swallows.

“Divine.” She whispers and he nods.

When the door chimes again, they shift apart. The warmth of Sacha moves away. We all glance over to see Antonio enter, rushed again.

“Sorry I’m late, well, not late exactly,” he says glancing at his watch.

“Coffee?” Jonas asks

“Nah, I’m good.” He says heading past us.

Sacha and Jonas take a moment to smile at each other and then Sacha moves to follow Antonio and get the griddles up and running. It won’t be too long until the customers begin to trickle in… then the rush, but for now Jonas and I smile. It is going to be another amazing day.

And it is. Crazy, but amazing. My brigade of white ceramic cups does its job, each doing its duty, then standing strong and firm in the hot steamy wash of the dishwasher before dashing to serve yet another customer.

At one point I stand on the counter, lipstick smeared on my rim, a hand clutched around my body. The woman almost seems desperate to fortify herself. But she almost forgets about me when a tall man in a brash suit slides in beside her. He does not sit down, but waves his mug to get Jonas’s attention.

"Make this a double double... and rinse it out too, will ya." he orders as he hands the brash metallic gold mug across to Jonas. He nods and takes it.

The man holds the lid as he glances over at the woman. She gives a hopeful smile, one that has demure hints as she flutters her eyelashes a few times. He gives her a mere smile, one of those barely there numbers, then glances back over to Jonas as if he is in some kind of hurry.

"You have a meeting?" she asks, already knowing he does.

"Yeah, across town." he says, barely looking at her.

I can feel her blush to the tips of her fingers and I feel for her.

Jonas sets the metallic monstrosity down in front of him and tells him the price.

"Christ, did the price go up again?" the man grumbles as he digs into his pocket for his wallet.

Jonas says nothing, but he does give the woman a smile and she smiles back. "Would you like a top up?' he asks.

"Yes, please."

Jonas moves away to get the pot while the man fumes waiting with his money. Guys like that don't leave a tip. They want their change.

I look over at the metallic mug. It is glaring down at me. "Ghastly shop. I pity you having to stay here all day." he mutters.

"Really?" I say,. "I quite enjoy it. I meet a lot of different people."

"You would, I suppose. You're as nondescript as the place. I happen to enjoy travelling from place to place. And only having one handler." As he says this the man drops the lid onto his head and screws in the top with a frustrated edge. The mug seems not to care, but I cringe. I would hate to wear a top like that.

"I've been all over the world," he goes on with a hoity tone, then smirks, "Besides, I don't have to deal with lipstick stains and dirty hands mauling me." He gives a dismissive shudder.

"I like the people that come here." I say proudly.

He makes another disgusted snort just as the man pockets his change and carries him off.

I watch him go. Jonas returns with the top up and the coffee warms me.

"Thank you." the woman says.

"My pleasure."

The woman seems lifted by Jonas's kindness and I smile. This is the way it is here. Regulars come and some even stay awhile. The few that pass by in a rush are the ones too big and important for themselves. They are often crass and rude, but those who stay warm themselves; share a part of themselves; then when they leave they share that with the world. A kind of passing it forward. Kindness flowing out, like the coffee itself.

This is my home. This is where I belong and I am happy with my little corner of the world.

Word Count = 1433.