Flash Fiction… It’s Not Optional

The hot brown liquid called his name.

He stumbled down the hall to start the brew.

The smell of the brew filled his nostrils.

He knew it would soon be done.

He filled a mug with the brew, inhaling the sweet aroma.

The brew slid down his throat providing that much needed morning jolt.

His brew now poured and being consumed, the morning was brighter.

The feeling of life provided by the coffee was not an option, it was needed to slay the beast of sleep.

 

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Copyright © 2020 Ann Bell Feinstein

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