Dead Before the Coffee Break

Dead Before the Coffee Break

He clocked in early, nodded once,

his coat still damp with last night’s rain.

No one noticed the weight he carried,

the quiet drag of living in chains.

He laughed on cue, poured cheap milk slow,

stirred sugar into something warm.

His hands knew all the right movements,

habit dressed up as normal form.

Inside, the rooms were already empty,

chairs tipped over, lights long gone.

Whatever lived there packed its things,

and slipped away before the dawn.

Words reached him late, or not at all,

they landed somewhere near his skin.

He answered right, he always did,

never letting the truth slip in.

By half past ten he was still standing,

breathing in, then breathing out.

Alive enough to fool the world,

dead beyond a shadow of doubt.

No thunder marked the moment it happened,

no warning bell, no final plea.

Something vital simply stopped,

while the clock kept perfect company.

By the time the mugs were cleared away,

and someone asked if he was fine,

he had already been gone for hours,

dead before the coffee break, on time.