The earthy taste of lentils lingered

on my tongue. It was dire. William

had taken a couple of mouthfuls

with his nose turned up, then pushed

away his bowl. Nat, this stuff is totally

ghastly, he complained vigorously. I

cleared away the uneaten food. I’d

have to find a more palatable way to

relieve our hunger. The charity shop

had included a half packet of instant

coffee in their parcel. I’d never drunk

the stuff. I boiled the kettle and poured

out a full mug. I felt reckless. It was nutty

and sludgy and corrosive and bitter. I

remembered how Mother had been

seriously addicted, downing cup after

cup. I smiled to myself. These difficult

times had matured me. I wasn’t the

dizzy girl I’d been. I was reflective.

I was resourceful. I would get the job


Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist

33 thoughts on “Mature”

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