He walks downstairs while I am still setting the table for breakfast. I get a smile and a kiss, and he seats himself.
*Good, he seems happy.*
I put the orange juice and some croissants on the table. He grabs one and said they smell delicious. I respond with a slightly nervous laugh, which he seems to take in stride.
*Please, let everything go smoothly.*
I put the toast down while trembling slightly and leave the table. I open a cupboard and take the coffee can.
I keep staring into the empty can, not daring to move. I feel dazed, frantically trying to think of a way to fix this. He notices me staring into the can and asks what’s wrong.
I hesitantly reply.
“There…there’s no coffee.”
He stares at his plate. It only lasts a moment though. He gets up with no expression, no emotion. I can’t hold back my tears and softly sob while keeping him in sight.
He grabs some cutlery from the drawer, and starts heating it in the oven.
*Not again. Not again. Not again.*