Therapeutic coffee

This was one of those special days. My fingers were running across the keyboard as if they were dancing. I wanted to finish the story that was occupying me, it was about a young man tormented by his inner voice...

I had been writing non-stop since morning and I felt very, very tired. It was a little past midnight and I had enough inspiration to fill a few more pages, I just needed a few minutes of rest and a good cup of coffee.

I pulled the chair away from the computer, stretched out my arms and in the kitchenette of my study I set up the coffee pot. In a few minutes the bubbling sound indicated that the coffee was ready, I filled my cup as usual.

I began to type again and a few minutes later a voice began to sound in my head: Are you suicidal, you have been typing non-stop for eighteen hours now... Do you want to finish your work or first end your life...?

Startled, I looked to the sides trying to find the origin of that voice...

I thought I had gotten so far into the story that I didn't know if I was thinking about the next line or if I was really listening to some voice...

I started typing again and the voice came again: You really are stubborn... stop working, go to bed at once...!

I had the feeling that the voice was coming from my coffee cup. I got up, went to the table and looked at the cup, apparently everything was normal... However, some small waves were drawn in the dark liquid.

I did not insist any more and went to sleep...The next morning I had a big commitment...Sleep quickly took hold of me...

I got up early, it was the day to meet Mary, my girlfriend of the last eight months. Our relationship was not going well, we had been separated for a week, and today we would meet again to see if we could find a way to solve our problems...

Mary was on time for the appointment at our favorite coffee shop. The conversation started off very well, but not even ten minutes had passed when we started to argue. It was the same as always, she would say something and I would refute it... We couldn't find a common path. We decided to call it a day and see each other another day, but I left with the feeling that the end of our relationship was very near...

At the end of the afternoon I started writing again, I couldn't concentrate, my mind was still on that morning appointment, I was only thinking about Mary. The hours passed and the image of the blank page tormented me...

I stopped and brewed my coffee, poured my cup and looked out the window to seek relief in the darkness of the night. A few minutes later I felt the voice in my head: If you would just let Mary talk everything would be better...You should try to tie your tongue when she talks...Just listen. Look at her without speaking and when she finishes let a few seconds pass and then you speak...

I was impressed by the clarity of those words. As I had done the night before, I looked around and had no doubt that the voice was coming from the coffee cup. Just like the other night, everything seemed normal, but the strange circular waves had appeared again in the cup...

The next day I called Mary, apologized to her and made an appointment for the afternoon... She agreed without much enthusiasm...

As I drove to the appointment the words echoed in my head: let her talk...listen...then you talk...

Mary began to tell me about a project of hers, I was tempted to interrupt her several times to give her my remarks, but I was able to hold off. Finally when she finished talking, I realized that her project was very good. I congratulated her. Mary was surprised...She told me that for the first time in a long time I had let her express her ideas without cutting off her inspiration...She gave me a kiss on the cheek, hugged me and shook my hands...I hope we see each other soon she said smiling before she said goodbye...

My mood changed. I had the conviction that we would recover our relationship...

That night my writing flowed quickly, I only needed a few lines to finish the story. To clear my mind I decided to pour myself a cup of coffee. Something in the dark background caught my attention, ripples began to be drawn on the watery surface, but this time no voice reached my ears, instead my mind was filled with images.

I ran to the computer and began to type. My fingers flew over the keys. I had decided to start over. No longer would my subject matter be that of a boy tormented by his inner voice. Instead I would tell the story of a boy who found his way to maturity while believing he heard the voice coming from a cup of coffee.

Thank you for your time.