THE COFFEE WAS STILL HOT [Intro — sparse acoustic, low electric guitar pulse] Every Tuesday, 7:10. Same stool. Same coffee. Same man three seats down. Never knew his name. [Verse 1] Mabel knew my order before I sat down Black coffee, two eggs, toast burned brown He’d be three stools over in that old gray coat Reading yesterday’s paper, never saying a note Sometimes he’d look up when the screen door swung Then go right back like he was waiting on someone I figured everybody’s got somewhere they belong So I drank mine slow and left him alone [Chorus] But the coffee was still hot Steam curling from the cup His keys were on the counter His truck was sitting out front Paper folded open Half a cigarette gone Mabel looked me dead in the eye and said, “Honey… what man are you talking about?” [Verse 2] I laughed because I thought that she was messing with me Said, “Gray coat. Corner stool. Every Tuesday at three— No, seven-ten, hell, you pour his coffee yourself” She stopped wiping down that little chrome shelf Then Earl by the register turned around slow Said, “Lady, I’ve been coming here twenty years or so That stool stays empty. Always has.” And nobody laughed. So neither did I. [Chorus] But the coffee was still hot Steam curling from the cup His keys were on the counter His truck was sitting out front Paper folded open One headline circled twice And underneath somebody’d written In blue ink— “You came back.” [Instrumental — low Telecaster, fiddle enters underneath] [Verse 3] I knew that handwriting. God, I knew it well. Hadn’t seen it since I packed one night And drove like hell Seventeen years and three state lines Since a county cop said, “Ma’am, we’ll call if we find—” I never let him finish. I never asked again. Some doors stay shut because you know what’s behind them. [Bridge — drums drop out] I walked outside. His truck was gone. No tracks in the gravel. No sound on the road. Just my reflection in the diner glass And Mabel standing somewhere behind me. She whispered, “Jenna…” I turned around. “What?” Her face went white. “I never told you my name.” [Hard stop] [Guitar / Fiddle Break — tense, restrained] [Final Chorus — fuller, darker] And the coffee was still hot But nobody touched the cup The keys were gone from the counter There was nothing parked out front The paper lay there open That blue ink bleeding through “You came back.” Then underneath it— “So did you.” [Outro — nearly spoken] I don’t go there Tuesdays anymore. But sometimes around 7:10 my kitchen smells like coffee. I don’t drink coffee. [Single guitar note] Never have.
