Seven. Minutes. Exactly. A mere seven minutes will decide my fate. Success will mean the salvation of the morning ritual of millions of people everywhere around the world. Failure will mean sheer disaster. If I fail, I could well end up in prison...
Or worse.
In seven minutes, I will board the train leaving from Paris, bound for the picturesque town of Maienfeld, Switzerland. I cross myself and whisper one final desperate prayer.
The station is becoming crowded. This makes me nervous.
How do I get myself into these ludicrous situations? Why did I choose myself to play the heroine of this mad plot? Why not let someone else save the world this time?
The third, and most important question I must now ask myself is, how do I get myself out of this mess?
I've never been anyone's hero. I've never wanted to be one. All I've ever wanted to do is live a peaceful, happy life. I never imagined I'd be flung straight into the middle of a war to save the world's most prized beverage!
Yet, here I am.
It all started just a few days ago. It was a beautiful morning. Not as hot or humid as in previous days. In fact, we were due for some heavy rainfall. My alarm clock sounded, and I rose, looking forward to my new day.
I'd made huge plans for the day. I'd stroll half a block to my favourite cafe and order breakfast. I'd come home and write for a bit, then read and maybe crochet. Later that evening, I'd go pick up dinner from my favourite deli.
Or so I thought.
After changing my bedding, I started the washing machine and went to the kitchen to make a short list of some things I needed from the grocery store next to the cafe.
The small radio played a familiar Mozart piece.
Suddenly, there was an interruption. The world as we knew it crumbled in an instant. "All citizens will be required to hand over any coffee remaining in their possession in three days. Anyone failing to comply will be severely punished."
I couldn't hear anything else. I felt dizzy. My mind was blank. Forcing myself to snap out of it, I raced through my shower and tried to decide what to do next.
I could imagine the chaos about to erupt. I would comply with the order, of course. What choice could I possibly have?
Within half an hour, riots began. I heard shouting and dashed outside. What I saw terrified me. People smashed the windows of the cafe and the grocery store. They loaded their arms with the forbidden fruit and tried frantically to make their escape.
The police were summoned and arrived within seconds. People started acting like caged animals. All voices carried a unanimous message. Give us coffee, or carry us off to prison. Or let us die!
Utter madness! What right did our government have to deny us the simple pleasure of coffee? Why were they doing this? The questions remained silent in my brain, as if the mere act of letting the thoughts slip from my tongue could mean death.
I slipped away and went back inside my house, locking the door behind me.
Just as I reached for my precious last cup of joe, a thought came to me. When the time came, I would comply with the order. Mostly.
It was a long, agonising day. That night, as I lay in my bed, a thought crossed my mind. Could he help me? Would he? We have been friends for ages, but what right did I have to ask him to risk his life for such foolishness?
Surely, he read my thoughts. At two thirty in the morning, my phone rang.
"I have just heard the horrible news, Ma cherie! Are you safe? There are rumours that the same thing will happen in Paris. I pray not."
I assured him I was safe. Then I told him of my plan.
"For Heaven's sake, be careful! What time do you land in Paris? I will come to collect you from the airport. You can stay with me until we know what to do next."
We said a hasty goodbye and hung up. The long wait began.
The next morning, people were ordered to bring all their coffee to the town centre to be collected by military personnel. I bit rash, as far as I was concerned, but so be it. I made ready to give up all that I had.
Well, almost all of it.
Before I left the house, I went to the kitchen and poured a small amount of my liquid gold into an air-tight container and shoved it to the back of the cupboard. I had a sickening feeling my secret might somehow slip through the walls and give me away. In town, the sea of people was endless. It was going to take hours! I simply couldn't wait that long. But what could I do?
A gentleman in full drab was pacing up and down on the street corner. My heart pounding in my ears, I approached him.
"Excuse me, sir?"
"Yes, Ma'am?" He glared at me suspiciously with blue-gray eyes.
"Could I please sit down? I've been standing a long time and..."
That's when he saw the crutches.
"Have you come to comply with the coffee order?"
I nodded slowly. "I have, Sir."
"Come with me, Miss." His tone softened then. He actually seemed friendly. When I sat down, he asked, "How many pounds of coffee do you have with you today?"
"Just this one can, Sir." I offered it up to him, and he wrote my name down on a list.
"I wish more people here were as honest as you've been, Miss."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. We've already had to arrest at least three dozen people for refusing to hand over their coffee stash. If we don't have all of it in three days, we have orders to search homes and businesses to take the rest. A damn shame this whole thing, if you ask me."
Back at home, I packed my bags and concealed the packet of coffee under a cloth. What would I do if it were discovered? I hadn't thought of that. Never mind. Too late now.
All these events took place just two days ago. I made it through customs at the Paris airport, thank God.
I've been in this train station for an eternity. The longer I stay here, the greater the chances of being caught.
Six minutes and counting.
To be continued.
.
