She opened her eyes. The sunlight streaming through the window felt like the stab of a knife in her eyes. She closed them again. The hard flagstone floor seeped cold into her back and legs. She tried to move her head but pain shot through her back. She felt winded and disorientated. Then, like a swell of the tide, the memory of what had happened came flooding back: the handle of the mug breaking off, boiling water scalding her stomach and leg, the pain shooting up her foot as she stepped on a fragment of broken mug, losing her balance as she hopped to the kitchen chair, banging her head against the kitchen table as she sunk to the floor.

Read the full story here: Short story: Black as coffee