(The shortest short story).
I am wrapped, skeleton-like…in my blanket. Emasculated by the weather, falling into an abyss of its cold life-threatening prison. A moody cup of coffee indifferently stares at me, its face turned to the broken side of a miserable table.
I grab it angrily towards my kiss-longing cursed lips. Oh, how lonely a soul can be on such a benevolently malevolent cold night! I grab the telephone to call Nankya…at least to hear her flirtatious voice..but “the number you are calling is not available at the moment” says a demonic voice who picks up Nankya`s phone. I call Ruth… Buzz..buzz buzz…no reply.
My cup of coffee now looks at me as if trying to ask why I made it if I wasn’t going to drink it. I Call Illah, my ex… I desperately need someone to talk to…. The phone rings for eternity. Then someone heaven-sent comes to my rescue and picks it up…. silence…one..two… three minutes of silence…
Then a fragile voice asks me why …”Why the fk do you keep calling me… Gabriel, I told you I fking moved on”. She slaps her phone violently ending the call. Crestfallen, I retire… And beg my dozing cup of coffee to keep me company.
I put my phone in helicopter mode and silently turn my ears to a distant sound of mournful music playing
from my neighbors starving radio.
I don’t wait for sleep to come for me… I follow him to my bed and he keeps me company until the alarm clock barks at me to get the hell out of bed and face another cold
Short story by.
By Bernard Gabriel Okurut.
A young Ugandan poet, spoken word artist, Singer, songwriter and literally activist.
Word from the author:
I wrote that creative piece on a very cold night…I nearly lost my mind to the breeze…I would not have
survived if it was not for the stupid cup of coffee….
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