My morning ritual was interrupted, that morning. I always wake up, make the coffee, letting it percolate while I shower and get dressed. Once I'm dressed, I'll enjoy the first cup on the tiny balcony that overlooks the parking lot. The second will usually make it halfway to the train station while I'm on my way to work before I take a pull.
As I said, this morning, my ritual was interrupted. I set the coffee maker, showered and dressed. Since it had been a mild winter, thus far, I only had on a long sleeve shirt to match my jeans. As I stepped through the sliding glass door, I was sent back inside by the bitter cold winter wind that had finally arrived.
It blew with enough ferocity to make up for its lax-month, leeching the warmth off the top layer of my first cup in the short moment I was exposed. I grabbed my warm, black pea-coat, the one with silk on the inside of the sleeves and the high collar. It had all of those pockets too. It would be nice to wear it again.
My first cup enjoyed from the comfort of my kitchen table, I poured the second into my thermos, and donned the heavy fleece. I slipped my wallet into my jeans pocket, sunglasses on the inside of my coat, keys in the opposite side, and my phone into the pocket I thought of as the 'secret' pocket, since it was between the zipper and button flap. As it fell to the bottom, I heard the clack of plastic to plastic. Now, outside, I pulled the door to my apartment shut, locked it and set my thermos down on the railing. I pulled my phone out, except, instead of my phone, the thing in my hand was a small, black bar-phone. I judged it to be one of those pay-as-you-go phones, valued at a meager twenty bucks. I was intrigued, but only slightly. I had held plenty of parties in may apartment, and attended even more last winter when I would have last worn the coat, it was likely my old girlfriend's or some other hooligans.
Then it rang. The shrill, standard ring shattering the morning's stillness. My impulse was to silence the abrasive noise.
"Hello?" I'm not sure why I answered instead of simply ignoring the call, but now the line was crossed, and I was hooked based on the necessity of convention.
"Whoever this is, don't hang up." Well now I definitely couldn't hang up. "I need you to go to the coffee shop on Main and ninth, get there as quick as you can. I will pick you up, look for the red mini-cooper."
I stood, poised on this precipice. The height, a dizzying flight of stairs to my waiting car. I could see the possibilities fall before me, I knew the coffee shop, it wasn't far, but should I? It seemed foolhardy, so why was I considering it? The woman on the other end of the phone sounded about my age, and she sounded as if she might have needed my help. I imagined myself as the knight in shinning armor. I imagined myself as the bait in a trap. I imagined myself simply going to the train station and forgetting this entire thing, the phone in some waste bin along the way.
The possibilities, the adventure, the glamour and adrenaline.
"Well, why the hell not?"