Coaster - Philip Charles

His steady grasp onto what was once his seemed to fade along with the whisper of belonging, yet still he continued to recite the words, this time under muffled breath as to avoid arousing further suspicion from conspecifics. The words didn’t matter anymore. This was obvious, particularly by the cold, fixated stare from beyond the broken, worn spectacles in which light was invading from a window in a nearby corner. Anticipation within retreated from whence it came revealing a hollow core of disbelief. “It had to be now” he said. “It just had to be now”. His head sunk deep into his shoulders as his feet dragged longingly across the dusty floor. He re-took his seat and leaned gently over a glass of water. He didn’t put it there. Perplexed, he ignored it for a moment until without thought he clasped it in his hands and raised it high, thrusting it towards the light. As he did so the coaster upon which it sat came too, revealing a dark stain on the table on which it once rested. “It’s worked” he exalted, oblivious to the gentlemen sitting across from him.