CHAPTER 18 – GRIFF
The coffee in my mug has been cold for a while now, but that doesn’t stop me from bringing it to my lips reflexively and then cringing when I remember that I should just dump it out already. The smell of burnt coffee lingers in the kitchen from the pot that I’ve left on, keeping it warm for Ledger. At this point I should just dump that too and make a fresh pot. I don’t want to give him burned, bitter coffee that’s been sitting in the pot since three in the morning when I woke up with my heart pounding all over again and anxious knots in my gut.