Black and Sweet
Category B: Highly Commended (2026) Monash Short Story Writing Competition
Author: Avneet Kaur
It was quiet for a city, but New Carthage always was. Beneath a bleeding night sky, Leo draped a curtain over his basement window and uncovered his grandfather's vintage espresso machine. Before the Caffeine Prohibition Act, coffee had been normal. Now, it was a felony. He flipped the switch. The boiler took eleven minutes to heat—eleven minutes of listening for police footfalls outside.
Instead, a frantic knock rattled the alley door: tap, tap, tap... tap.
Leo gripped a brass portafilter for protection and threw the door open. Sarah stumbled in, a massive shadow looming behind her.
"Leo, please," Sarah hissed. "He's with me. He's safe."
The man was a twitching nerve ending in a trench coat, sweating despite the frost. To Leo, he looked exactly like an undercover cop about to pull a badge.
"You're breaking protocol, Sarah," Leo growled, blocking the path. "Who is he?"
"Arthur," the man choked out, staring at the chrome machine. "I need the real stuff. From before the Ban. I’ve worked three straight double shifts. The government synthetic chicory does nothing. I'm losing my mind."
"He's clean," Sarah pleaded. "He's my supervisor. He's drowning."
Arthur’s hands were vibrating with withdrawal. Leo stepped aside. "Sit. Stay away from the windows."
Leo unsealed a hidden jar of dark-roasted Colombian beans, filling the damp room with a rich aroma. Arthur let out a whimper of pure relief. Leo fired up the grinder. The roar felt as loud as a gunshot. He leveled the grounds, packed the coffee with thirty pounds of pressure, and locked the portafilter into place. He pulled the lever, and liquid gold oozed into a ceramic cup, topped with a velvety crema.
Leo slid the espresso across the bench. "Drink it fast."
Arthur reached out, his hand shaking violently. But just as his fingers brushed the ceramic, he froze in sheer panic. "Wait! I forgot!"
"Forgot what?" Leo’s hand dropped beneath the counter, gripping an iron pipe.
"I can't drink it black," Arthur stammered, plunging his hand deep into his trench coat.
Leo tensed, expecting a gun. Instead, Arthur yanked out a greasy brown paper sack and slammed it down. The top burst opened, spilling sparkling white crystals across the dark wood.
"Do you know how hard it is to get raw cane sugar?" Arthur panted, pulling a plastic spoon from his sleeve. "The government traces synthetic sweeteners! I had to buy this behind a bakery in the industrial district!"
Leo stared at the contraband sugar. The absolute absurdity broke through his panic. He let go of the pipe and laughed.
"Sugar," Leo muttered, tossing him a metal spoon. "You risked ten years for sucrose."
"Life is too short for black coffee," Arthur said defensively, dumping three massive scoops into the cup.
Sarah exhaled, her shoulders dropping. "He's an idiot, Leo. But a paying idiot."
Arthur took a sip. The shaking stopped. His eyes closed in pure bliss as the stress lines on his face smoothed out. Leo watched him, then looked back at his grandfather's machine. They were all criminals now, bound by ground beans and sweet crystals in a gray world. Upstairs, the city remained dead quiet. But down in the dark, the rebellion tasted incredibly good, at least for now. You never knew, in the dark you couldn't even tell the difference between your own shadow.