Two by Jeremy De Tolly
“I made coffee, watching it dribble from the filter down into the glass pot. I went weeks without it. I craved it. I cried and fought through headaches, wanting it, needing it. It reminded me of Brody, of our morning ritual; it was the intangible piece of him that I had, that I held dear. Something as stupid and as simple as savoring that cup of black coffee was the means to bring him to life again, if only for a half a second.” – “The Wild Dark”, my work-in-progress.