Member-only story
About Me — Sean Michael Schaeller
A man in Chitré, Panamá
The fan is dusty. I should clean it but I haven’t. Three blades. One wobbles.
The cat is behind me. He sleeps most of the morning.
I’m waiting for the coffee. The machine does what it does. I haven’t bought a new one because this one still works. The sound it makes while it heats is louder than it used to be. I wait.
A moto goes by on the street. Then another. The neighbor’s music from two houses down. Reggaeton. It’s been the same song for a week.
My father comes out of the bedroom. Fills the cat’s water bowl. The water slaps the metal and the cat gets up without looking.
The coffee is almost done. I can smell it now. I haven’t moved from the counter.
The coffee finishes. I pour it into the mug that used to be part of a set. The rest broke. This one chipped years ago and I kept using it.
I sit at the counter.
My father coughs in the other room. The television comes on low. He watches the news at this hour. Still.
The mug is warm in my hand. I don’t drink it right away.
The cat walks to the door and waits. I get up to let him out.
