Over Medium

His hands were shaking uncontrollably. He tried to pass it off that it was just the coffee that he was drinking, but he knew it wasn't. The tighter he held the cup, the worse the tremors got - causing the dark brown liquid inside to slosh around, occasionally jumping out onto the lacquered surface of the table. He had always had bad nerves. And he had always turned to coffee to calm himself down. Others warned him that it'd only make it worse, but somehow it always soothed him, bringing him back to reality. But these jitters were different.

No. It most definitely wasn't the caffeine.

It had all started as a normal day. He woke up. Hopped into the shower and listened to 95.5 'The River,' singing along with the classics. Quickly dressed and made his way downstairs to the kitchen where the freshly brewed cup of coffee was waiting for him. Steaming proudly in the cool morning air. He had a cup to accompany his bowl of cereal and made his way back upstairs to throw on a tie - just in time to meet his wife as she was ducking into the bathroom. A quick kiss and the door closed behind her.

Work was like any other day. Fast paced. Full of tedious phone calls, meetings that dragged on too long, and interns who just moped around near the copiers, trying not to make eye contact with anyone important. It wasn't exciting, but it paid well and he had been with the company for years. It was just part of the routine.

When he got home, he found it strange that his wife's car was in the garage. Usually he made it home before her and prepared dinner. It was even more peculiar when he walked inside and called out to her to hear no response. Only some of the lights were on and he could faintly hear the shower. As he made his way upstairs, thats when he heard the giggling. Of course he recognized it as hers. He had loved her for twelve years. He knew every pitch, every nuance. But then he heard another with hers. Deeper. From a man.

He just stood there for a moment, outside of the bathroom door. Forehead resting against the wood. Not sure what to do. Just listening to the water as it splashed against the tile, swirled down the drain, mixing in with the giggling.

Then he kicked the door in. And saw them.

Standing there, embracing each other. Naked and wet.

In his shower.

For a brief second he saw the look of realization in his wife's eye, for what she had done, before it quickly turned to fear. His control was gone. His hands were on the man. Throwing him out of the tub. Pummeling his face. His body. Anywhere he could land a fist or occasional foot. The blood started to flow. Mixing with the water - looking much worse than it actually was. But he didn't stop. He just kept landing blow after blow. Breaking the man. His wife tried to stop him but the moment he turned and stared at her, she backed away into the corner of the shower. She knew what she had unleashed couldn't be stopped.

By the time he had made it back to the bottom of the stairs, his knuckles were throbbing. Cracked open. Swollen. He shirt was no longer a pleasant salmon, but a dark maroon. If he hadn't had a level of self control, he surely would have wrapped the curtain around the man's face and held tight until he stopped squirming, but he took pleasure in knowing he was still moaning as he walked out of the bathroom. It was simply time to go.

He had driven for what seemed like hours. Straight into the night. And all the way through it. Staring ahead. Going nowhere in particular. He just kept driving. Out of the city. Over the mountains and into the desert.

And here he sat. Bloated hands trembling away. Trying to get a hold of just a sliver of reality. The diner was empty. It was just him and Rubith the waitress, enjoying the early morning hours and smell of bacon frying on the griddle. He was sure the police were looking for him. Trolling his neighborhood. Waiting in his house. Ready to take him down to the station. Read him his rights and throw him into a cell. There was nothing to go back to. She had betrayed him.

As he looked down into the cup and dark shaking liquid his mind was empty except for one thing.

How did he want his eggs?