Check the thermostat, will ya? he asked. It’s a hundred degrees outside, and it feels like it’s forty-two in here, the old man poured a cup of coffee. Did ya hear me? she sat in the rocking chair, slowly going back and forth. I’ll check it myself, the old man looked at the gage on the wall. Sixty-two? Are you out of your mind? she smiled. First thing, we can’t afford it. Secondly, it’s cold, he said, turning the dial to seventy-eight.

I wanted it to feel like fall in here, she said. Autumn. I wanted it to feel like autumn, the old lady continued rocking in the wooden chair.

You want me to paint the leaves too? he took a sip of his coffee. This ain’t coffee. This is brown luke-warm water, she laughed. You know, you’re getting crazier by the day. By the minute, he laughed and walked into the kitchen. The old man started going through cabinets. Looking past sugar, salt, various spices she’d collected over the years. OK, I give up, he yelled. Where’s the coffee?

It’s in the freezer, she said.

Why is it in the freezer?

Keeps it fresh.

That’s an old falsehood. An untruth. It’s a lie some fool started a long time ago. Behind the green beans, frozen chicken stood a can of Maxwell House. They say it’s good to the last drop. Or, is that some other brand? he took out the coffee and removed the plastic lid. Maybe I’m losing my mind too, he said. Maybe we’re both goin’ crazy, he started looking through the cabinets again. What did you do with the filters?

You can’t find them?

Just tell me where they’re at.

I don’t know. Funny. I used them this morning. Now I can’t remember where they’re at.

The old man started pulling everything out of the cabinets; peanut butter, crackers, Wheat Thins, old bread passed the date, a can of sardines, unopened pickles, an Allen wrench.

Where are the Goddamned filters?

Maybe in the bathroom, she said.

He walked down the hall, mumbling to himself. Who keeps filters in a bathroom? he asked out loud.

I think I left them there this morning when I went to the bathroom, she said. I did. I left then on the back of the toilet. I forgot.

Why would you carry them into the bathroom?

I don’t know.

From now on, the coffee and filters stand on the back of the counter, he said. I decree this. You understand? she nodded her head. You’re getting dingy, dear. You’re getting dingier by the day.

I was talking to Robert Paul’s wife the other day, and she said the end days were coming. She could feel it in her bones. Turn on the TV, and all they talk about is war. That and how some cute kid saved his fish from a tornado; I like those stories. Anyway. She said the end times were coming, he counted out spoons of coffee. Added water. Turned the maker on. The brown water dripped into the pot. They sat in silence.