Lavazza

She swore, flinging the empty coffee tin into the corner. Without cigarettes or cookies she could survive, but without coffee?

Nothing doing, the boat had left and would only return in two weeks. In theory, she could swim to the main island; that would mean swimming across from one uninhabited island to the next, and what an absurd thing to do for coffee. Even if the weather was nice and the sea calm, she would most certainly drown; now in April for sure. She almost laughed. She didn’t even like swimming.

But no, it had been Jodie’s plan all along. Jodie had taken the coffee out of the supply box for revenge. Everything was possible with her, and yet she would certainly claim innocence. How could she have agreed to this stupid deal, crackbrained idea, a hermit break? She had talked her into it, ‚come on Amanda, it will be good for you, you always say you need to be alone to work. Just try it, Amanda, a few weeks only. ‚ Amanda was fuming. She was constantly being manipulated. Jodie took immense pleasure to test how far she could bend Amanda to her will. She cooked up the most inane ideas for her, and then twisted everything so they were suddenly Amanda’s deepest wishes.

She grabbed a bottle of wine from the door of the fridge and poured a glass, then another. The anger had concentrated in her chest and needed out. „YOU BITCH!“ she screamed at top of her voice and swiped the little Italian moccha off the counter, the same way the coffee tin had gone.  „ARGHHH!!!“ After all, there was noone else, she might as well let rip. She roared again, even louder and then started typing frantically on her laptop which sat at at the table by the window.  

„You FILTHY RAT, how could you do that to me! leaving me alone here, and in such a pit! I wish I had never met you!“ She hit the keys hard, they seemed to clack in protest.

WHY do you claim to be there for me and then you do this to me? Who are you, to get involved in ny life like this, with your money and your designer vlothes, in reality you stink as well! I see right through you, you damn smelly bithch, butch bITCH! I hate you!“ Her fingers were spinning even faster than her thoughts. 

Suddenly she became aware that she had just been sitting there, staring out of the big window without seeing the sea below. The other islands were to the back, in front of her was only blue, space and calm. 

She moved carefully, her fingers were cold and stiff, her neck ached. It was as if somebody had switched on the light. The sun was up high, she must have sat here for a long time. The screen of her laptop was black. She stood and looked around as if she hadn’t already arrived the day before. The little house on the cliffs was not exactly luxurious but practical and comfortable; with electricity, a built-in kitchen, hot water, good windows, comfy furniture. It was unusual to find a spot on an island in the Mediterranean, with nobody else around, and equipped for winter, too. 

Had she opened the wine? She took the corkscrew and mechanically unwound the cork to put it back on the bottle. Better to cool it again. When she opened the fridge, three big metal cans with the familiar red logo stared at her. Lavazza.