Jean peaked out of the windows, through the closed shutters he could’t see much. The road snaking up to the village was still empty.
He pushed his small palms against the windowsill and let his bare feet quietly touch upon the ground.
Would today be the day?
Trying not to make any noise he hoisted himself onto the kitchen counter and retrieved the last handfull of coffee beans from the upper shelf, pushed the kettle onto the stove top and lit the fire inside. He pressed the coffee mill against himself, to not let the squeaking noise wake his mother.
He peaked out of the window again.
Down in the valley, he could make out a cloud of dust.
Was today the day?
Quickly and on cats paws he rushed to the kettle to remove it from the stove before it started to whistle.
About to pour the water onto the coffee, he heard an engine, he heard breaks screeching, a door shut. And there was a pounding on the front door.
Today, was the day!
Jean put down the kettle, flung open the door.
“Oh hello boy, is your mom about?” The big bellied lorry driver bellowed.
“She’s asleep sir!” he whispered.
“Alright then, I’ll come back tomorrow with this special delivery!”
Jean’s heart dropped, he had been waiting for this long only to wait again.
“But Sir,” he said suppressing his tears, “can’t you just leave the delivery with me?”
“I see from your puppy dog expression that this must be for you!”
“Well in that case, I’ll leave it with you, under the condition that you make me a cup of coffee and let me have a peak into that box.”