How many spoonfuls? I wonder staring at the sugar cup, swinging my legs to and fro at the turquoise stainless steel table. The boiling percolator beats a muffled tribal dance. Grandmother slides it off the burner; the thumping stops. Lustrous brown pours into the porcelain tea cup and steam curlicues up her wrist. I inhale the bitter aroma and feel like a woman. Spoonful after spoonful of sugar I stir into my cup of coffee. I ask her about weather and corn prices because that’s what my parents talk about, and I gingerly sip my cup of sugar and coffee.

Talk story

  1. cmak15 says:

    Great buzz words in this story: muffled tribal dance, porcelain tea cup, turquoise stainless-steel table. Very poetic in your words.

  2. Johanna says:

    I feel like I’m looking at a snapshot or a painting when I read this. The descriptions are so vivid and your narrator is nicely developed even in this short snippet. I definitely can envision this scenario! I love the image of steam curlicuing up her wrist and the idea of a young girl experiencing womanhood through her "sugar and coffee."

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