By Karri L. Moser
She pulled the lever down and added the froth, glancing from the corner of her eye. Ding went the bell. On time, just like every morning. 42 weekday mornings. Today she would ask him out when handing over his coffee. She was shaking, spilling some of the froth. He extended his hand, froth dripped on a new ring he wore. It felt like a dagger when she realized 42 mornings amounted to a morning, or two, too late. He gently wiped the froth from his shining wedding ring, smiled, and walked out of the shop and on with his life. Hers? Well, that was a life that needed to start over on morning 43.
Karri L. Moser
I am a freelance writer and dabble in fiction. I have my degree in English literature and I have worked as a news reporter for both radio and newspapers all over the east coast. As an Army wife and daughter, I live a gypsy life and that has given me perspectives and experiences that need to be written and shared. I am currently mid-way though my first novel but love short and flash fiction.