ManyWriters

I hurried to the hotel on my beat-up electric scooter, eager to tell my wife that our coffee shop was finally about to land its first big order.
As I pushed open the door to the banquet hall, I froze in shock.
A ragdoll cat was rolling around on the cake I had stayed up all night to make.
My wife walked over, stepping on cake crumbs strewn across the floor. Without even glancing at me, she fastened a platinum collar around the cat's neck, then moved close to adjust that man's tie.
I looked down at my flour-covered work uniform, then at the cheap plastic pendant hanging from my daughter's neck.
So this was the "high-end market" she had been talking about. It was never about our coffee shop.
Ten years of marriage, shattered at a pet party.

The Aftertaste is Not Gone

If regret were useful, what would we need laws for? Let's leave the past in the past.


Time flies, and before we knew it, it was Meadow's birthday again.


Serenity and I spent two weeks meticulously decorating the coffee shop, preparing a custom birthday cake and themed coffee drinks.


She gave Meadow two little pets, a cat and a dog, naming them Tangerine and Melody.


"Let them keep each other company and watch over our Meadow together."


She gazed at me, her eyes shimmering with gentleness: hoping Tangerine could soothe the pain of losing Juno.


Over time, I had mentioned Juno's story, not realizing she had kept it close to her heart all along.


Meadow was overjoyed, her laughter echoing throughout the evening.


I prepared special mini cakes for Meadow, Melody, and Tangerine.


As the girl, cat, and dog were happily eating, I spotted her through the glass door.


Chapter 9