Janice Maves

Now and Then

Doris overheated a cup of leftover coffee in her rush to get to the nine-o-six on time. It would be a long ride into the city and she did not like running for a train. Running was the folly of youth. A folly she had long ago used up. Now as she sat in the tightness of a window seat on the train, working hard not to make eye contact with the commuters across from her, she felt the slight graininess of the coffee burn on the roof of her mouth. She ran her tongue over the spot that was sore, did it again and again, and reminded herself that she was the reason for this slight pain. She reminded herself that this small incident was a mere memory, not a catastrophe waiting to happen.