The Blue Cup Cafe exists in my mind and in my writing.
The patrons of the cafe are characters in a series of interwoven tales where various other patrons write what they imagine to be the stories behind those observe at The Blue Cup.

Warning: To those sensitive to rough language, you may find a little here.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Edna the Brave

Edna was a widow.  A recent widow.  Less than a year,  anyway. Seven long agonizing months of widowhood.  Widowed too young, thought Edna.  Her life was her home, her family,  her husband.  And now they were all gone, all gone except the house she could barely keep up on her own.
Damn.  Damn, damn, damn, Edna thought.  Of course, she only thought it.  Edna never swore, not even damn.  Shed  been raised a pretty strict Methodist, and one just didn't use that kind of language, though she was tolerant of others who did.  Especially as she sure as hell thought it these days.  Damn fucking shitty hell is what she thought.  And often those first few months of widowhood.  And the pain was still there.  But one day, about a month ago, she woke up and said to herself...what the hell am I doing with my life.  Nothing.  Ray wouldn't have wanted me to live like this.  I don't want to live like his.  So she made a plan. The plan was simple.  Do things she had always vaguely dreamed of doing.  At least try them.  Do at least  one brave thing every day.

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