As Her Hands Shook, a Dream

Her hands shook as she poured the coffee, steaming, into a cracked mug. A dribble of the dark brown liquid ran down the outside of the carafe onto the counter, looking like a tiny pond, a deep and mysterious pool. Robin wondered if there would be fish, frogs, turtles, or even snakes or possibly alligators. These things were kept in zoos, as pets, and roamed wildly on the Earth.

Her mind wandered to the screech of tires, the wind through her hair, the stiff ground as she landed. There were faces, blurred faces, sirens in the distance. The sky too bright, the faces too dark as she lay waiting. Distance memories awoke with her in the morning, stole her thoughts and commanded her nerves with an unsettling vibration. Waves, swells, rocking of a boat on an ocean. The counter coffee could not be like an ocean, of that she was sure.

First thing in the morning her hands shook; it had been happening she couldn't remember since when. But once she got through the pouring of the coffee, the mental centering around the puddle, a calm washed over her and she was still.