A Story in a Cup

He liked his coffee black. A quick espresso in a modest white cup resting in a matching saucer. She didn’t understand why. There was no sugar, no spoon, there was no need for a saucer.

She was different, she liked tea. Well, actually, she liked infusions and didn’t know it wasn’t tea. Camomile, lemon grass, mint, lime. The list went on, but it was never the atual tea leaf.

He was a painter, known for his strong brush strokes and saturated colours, strong images like his bitter coffee. She was a journalist, in love with him and the neo-communist party.

They lived in a small apartment in Italy, the only country to stay mostly untouched after the collapse of the crypto-currency economy and the civil war that followed. Big corporations now ruled mostly of the Europe and Northern Africa. China and the US were devastated barren lands by Trump’s feud with North Korea. Who could have known it would lead to such a devastating event?

Either way, that was in the past and it was time to focus on more important matters.

It was a sunny autumn morning and they were sitting face to face, slowly starting the day.

She is focused on her book while he sits down with the saucer and cup.

— Every morning for these last 2 weeks, you have your cup of coffee, with no sugar, and use a saucer. Why? Because, fuck logic.

He smiles, says yes, and gently rotates the saucer to show a shiny golden ring. Modest and elegant, yet strong enough to make her freeze and let go a shy smile.

I challenged others to come up with their versions. This was the result.

António Lopes

“She said no” #3WordStories

Pedro Moura Pinheiro

Pedro Moura Pinheiro “We found out that day that I was coffee, she was tea. I wasn’t meant to be.”

Joana Rita Sousa

“Pour some sugar on me”

Filipe Bernardes

He was a romantic. I chocked. It was never meant to be.

João Filipe Mateus

Naquele curto espaço de tempo, as palavras pareciam ocas. Sentia-lhe o arrependimento. Os olhos dela diziam que não sabia o que dizer. Levantou-se, pediu-me desculpa e partiu. Sem olhar para trás.

David Carvalhão

Ela convidou-me para um café a dois que iria durar o resto da nossa vida…