• Vol. 05
  • Chapter 08

A Story of Instant Coffee

An old woman is being reprimanded by her daughter at the backyard of the crematory after the funeral was over. She is wearing empire line gown of velvet and chiffon as a mourning. Is this the reason or what? She has a poor body, was a plain and silent wife.

She changed since she had her feeling of acceptance. She began to learn French and became elegant. She fell in love with a French teacher, a young French man. She brought a French man the funeral.

She is no longer an old woman, covered her thin bones with the drape around loins, flashing a smile of pale pink like a clover on her tense cheek, talking quietly in French with a lover at the cafe of the crematorium.

Her daughter spills coffee on the floor and sobs. I wanted to wear a beautiful dress at my wedding! Mom's old-fashioned round cape dress was caught by my friend ― A nun!

An old woman drinks her instant coffee. The freeze-dried powder of coffee dyes her mortal heart in dark brown. She poured her coffee into her internal organs and melts herself into her paper cup. A cup of coffee is her watery coffin.

Anyway, this is a story of instant coffee spreading on the floor of a crematorium. Sugar cubes, milk pots and plastic spoons on the table, and the powder of damp instant coffee. At least, in a story of instant coffee, it is unlikely that hot and arid airflow may extract a scent of the real romance. As in a film of Jeanne Moreau and Jean-Paul Belmondo.