Coffee Summary: He drinks it because it tastes like her Rating: T

A/N- This is the first fic I've posted… but the last line popped into my head and it just had to be written, so I wrote it.

Some nights he finds himself sitting in her stool at the counter, a mug balanced between his hands, staring into the depths of the sludge that rests inside. He finds himself letting the scent wrap around him as he sips. She would never have believed that he did this. She would have laughed and told him that he needed to quickly get himself on a twelve step program before the addiction could really take hold and send him to an early grave. The thing he really needed a twelve-step program for was her. He felt like he was in with-drawl. He missed her wit, her smile, and the way she used to use babble as an evasive tactic. He missed the lingering bitterness on her lips when they kissed. It hadn't happened in any of the ways he had been bracing himself for. She had been happy with him. She hadn't run this time. She hadn't left for bigger and better things, people, or places. She hadn't left him by choice at all and that's what really shakes him. She had been on her way back from New Haven when a drunk driver had come out of nowhere at ninety miles per hour and smashed into the drivers side of her car. The damn Jeep had rolled over, not that it had mattered. She had died on impact. He had gotten the call from a hysterical Rory at 10:55. He takes another sip. No, she'd never believe it. She would say it was a gateway bad food and that soon enough he'd be eating french fries and chocolate covered waffles. That wasn't going to happen though. He had not completely converted to the eating habits that hadn't had a chance to be the death of her. It was just the coffee, and he only drank it because it tasted of her.