Peek Inside | Invisible Moments
Welcome
Thank you for taking a moment to explore Invisible Moments.
Below you'll find an exclusive preview of the opening pages. We hope these first stories invite you to slow down, reflect, and discover the beauty hidden within life's ordinary moments.
About the Book
Invisible Moments is a collection of 30 inspirational stories about the quiet moments that shape our lives in unexpected ways. Each story is designed to be read in just a few minutes, leaving you with something to carry long after you've turned the page.
Copyright
Invisible Moments
Copyright © 2026 Latoya Pollard
All rights reserved.
This work is protected by copyright. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form without prior written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations used in reviews.
Invisible Moments is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
Published by Belle Book Studio
Printed in the United States of America
________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Two Coffee Mugs
Some memories are poured one cup at a time.
________________________________________________________________________________________________
Every Saturday morning, Emma went to Pop-Pop's house.
She never knocked.
She didn't have to.
The front door was always unlocked, and the smell of pancakes greeted her before Pop-Pop ever could.
"Morning, kiddo," he called from the kitchen.
"Morning, Pop-Pop."
Saturday mornings were wonderfully predictable.
Pancakes sizzled on the griddle.
Bacon crackled in the skillet.
An old radio hummed softly in the background, filling the kitchen with songs that somehow always sounded better there.
And there was coffee.
Well...
coffee for Pop-Pop.
Hot chocolate for Emma.
There was one more thing that never changed.
Every Saturday, Pop-Pop reached into the cabinet and took down two coffee mugs.
He filled the first one with black coffee, just the way he liked it.
The second mug stayed empty.
He carefully placed it across the table, directly in front of the chair no one ever sat in.
Emma noticed it the first Saturday.
Then the second.
Then the tenth.
Then the twentieth.
She noticed it every week.
She wondered about it every week.
But she never asked.
She figured if Pop-Pop wanted to tell her, he would.
And one rainy Saturday...
he finally did.
Thunder rolled softly in the distance as Pop-Pop placed the empty mug in its usual spot.
Emma watched him for a long moment before quietly asking,
"Pop-Pop?"
He looked up.
"Whose mug is that?"
A gentle smile spread across his face.
"That's your grandmother's mug."
Emma looked at the empty chair.
"But... she's been gone a long time."
"I know," he said softly.
There wasn't sadness in his voice.
Only the quiet certainty of someone who had loved deeply.
He wrapped both hands around his coffee mug and looked at the empty chair with a smile.
"You know," he said, "your grandmother always believed coffee tasted better when someone was sitting across the table from you."
His eyes drifted back to Emma.
"She'd tell me it was never really about the coffee."
He smiled.
"It was about sharing the morning."
A quiet laugh escaped him.
"And every Saturday, without fail, she'd complain that her coffee was too hot."
Emma smiled.
"Then she'd blow on it for five minutes..."
Pop-Pop laughed.
"Every single time."
He shook his head, still smiling.
"And she'd still drink every last drop."
Emma giggled.
"I think I would've liked Grandma."
Pop-Pop's smile softened.
"Oh, sweetheart..."
He reached across the table and gently rested his hand on hers.
"She would've absolutely adored you."
The room grew quiet.
Not the kind of quiet that feels empty.
The kind that feels full.
Full of memories.
Full of love.
After a moment, Emma picked up her mug of hot chocolate and walked around the table.
Instead of returning to her chair, she sat beside the empty mug.
Pop-Pop looked at her with a puzzled smile.
"I figured," she said softly, "you shouldn't have to drink coffee alone."
For just a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Pop-Pop reached across the table and gently squeezed her hand.
Outside, the rain kept falling.
Inside, the pancakes grew cold.
The coffee cooled.
The radio kept playing.
But somehow...
the kitchen had never felt warmer.
________________________________________________________________________________________________
