Mesha Mcneil

Roach

The coffee was cold and burnt. A gritty drizzle of charcoal lingered at the bottom of the mug with “Worlds Greatest Dad.” in large red text on the side. Lenny’s lips cracked and flaked as he opened his mouth and emptied the bitter dregs onto his tongue. His large thumb flicked through the pages of the black notebook. Grey ash collected in the corners of his knuckles and joints of his fingers, glowing against his brown skin under the dimmed kitchen lamp. The pages ripped through the air one by one until the notebook closed for it’s 37th time.