The Coffee
[Notes: 1. Contains heavy psychological themes and emotional distress. 2. Not suitable for readers currently struggling with intrusive or overwhelming thoughts. 3. Fictional scene; avoid interpreting it as guidance or real-world action.] His hands shivered as he tried to hold the tiny glass bottles of pills in his hands. "They didn't shiver when you held her hands," the voice in his head whispered. "They didn't shiver when they built your own doom throughout 25 years. Then why now?" He had no answer. He put the bottle back on the shelf and rested on a chair. He looked at the wall clock; it was ticking half past two. It had been years since he used to be deep asleep during these hours. It was not insomnia that kept him awake; it was his own thoughts. He thought he should get a coffee. He used to love it black and bitter. He put a folded thin cloth in a sieve and filled it with an unhealthily large amount of coffee powder. He then sieved 3–4 cycles...