Microfiction Day 68 – “The Trail”

She knew where he’d been by the trail of coffee mugs.

Sometimes they were completely drained, as if the coffee had never been there at all. Others she found half drunk, the ceramic cool to the touch and the coffee like an unwelcome slick she could see her face in. Rarely they were freshly made but forgotten, the aroma enough to make her mouth water.

She found one like this on the bookshelves outside his workshop. She rolled her eyes and picked it up before pushing open the door.

She found him with his hands wrapped around a mug.

“What?”