Chapter 26 - The coffee mug
Police retained Linda’s coffee mug as evidence for a long time.
White ceramic.
Blue rim.
Nothing sinister.
When the case ended, property disposition came up.
Linda wanted it returned?
No.
I was asked whether I had any claim.
Absolutely not.
Destroy it.
Dispose of it.
Do whatever evidence rooms do with objects nobody wants.
I did not need a ritual.
Then, two years and ten months after the incident, I bought a new mug.
Not because of symbolism.
Because my favorite one cracked.
It was lavender.
I noticed only after paying.
I stood in the parking lot holding the bag and laughed.
Linda had worn lavender that morning.
Apparently colors do not accept guilt.
At home, I made coffee.
Set it high on the counter.
Ellie, now almost five, came in.
“Can I smell?”
“Yes. Don’t touch. Hot.”
She leaned.
“Smells gross.”
“Correct.”
I drank.
No flashback.
No shaking.
May you like
Just coffee.
That felt more meaningful than throwing a mug against a wall ever would have.
