The Broken Coffee Machine: A Narrative Fiction

663 Words2 Pages

He looked half dead half the time like it made no difference at all that he was still breathing. I had been constantly ordered to stay away, but there was some kind of feeling deep in my chest that forced me to be drawn to him. It was never my fault that I found myself standing closer than I should, checking up on him to make sure he wasn’t completely gone. Even if he someday despised me with all his heart, I’d still be there. It was my only purpose, in truth. A purpose that he came to regret I’m sure. In the darkness of the unused break room, he sat there stone still, staring at the broken coffee machine that I had never seen work. It caused a sort of trance to come over him like he was remembering some deep dark secret that the world should never know. Strangely peaceful, …show more content…

"It’s not like I hate you, you know? I just don’t know how to act around you. I know you don’t understand, and I’m sorry for that.” It was the first time he ever told me what he was thinking and the first time he ever apologized. Looking down at his hand intertwined in mine, I didn’t even want to understand anymore. He didn’t hate me. After all the cold stares, inverted existence, and constant berating from him, I finally understood that. “Xeph, I-” “Shh,” He silenced me again, but much softer than before, “I’m happy you’re here with me. Just don’t say any more, please. I can almost go back. Holding your hand like this, I can almost deceive my own heart and pretend I’m not alone now.” His words always contradicted what was really happening. The sadness he felt always seemed to come from nowhere. He wasn’t alone. I was right there beside him, and as far as I could remember, I had always been. Still, even if I felt like we were miles apart as I sat right next to him, I decided that I would accept that. There was always time to find the truth. There was always time to one day understand, but at that moment, he was happy with

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