Wednesday, September 14, 2016

One More Cup Of Coffee ... Part 3



One More Cup Of Coffee ... Part 3

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or actual events is purely coincidental.

For several weeks, I remained in bed, locked in a room. I would see Maggie Fontainebleau mornings and evenings. During the days, she left for the diner, and she would return home with a plate of short order cuisine. The food was tolerable, and I ate voraciously, each passing day gathering more and more strength. Before long, I knew that I was fit enough to leave.

"My car?" I asked Maggie after my evening meal.

"Your car?" she chuckled with a note of surprise. "What in tarnation would you be needing your car for?"

"I was just curious if ..."

"Oh well, yer car is just fine. It's parked in the south garage, but you won't be needing it anytime soon."

"Maggie," I began, "I'm going to need my clothes, my personal effects and the keys to my car. It's time for me to leave."

"Leave?" she murmured in something of a bemused tone of voice. "Leave, hmm, I don't reckon you're gonna be leavin', Mistah Hoskins. No, I don't reckon that would suit me at all."

"Maggie," I said softly, "I think all this has gone far enough. I am grateful for your care, grateful for your kindness and hospitality, but Maggie, I have a life to return to."

"So you may, Mistah Hoskins, so you may. But youse have a life here now. Things done and said can't be undone and unsaid. Youse indebted to me, and I ain't about to just forget all that. Youse owe me, Mistah Hoskins, and I do plan to collect."

"I can pay you," I offered. "In fact, I must pay your for your kindness."

"Not about money, Mistah Hoskins, not about money at all. Money comes and money goes. What I don't have is something more precious."

My thoughts tumbled over one another.

"What is it you want then?" I asked blankly.

"I want a man to love me ..."

And with that, Maggie Fontainebleau pulled down the sheets covering me, looked deeply into my confused eyes, and before I could say another word, she was on me.

... To be continued ...

 









 








 
 


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