Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Prompt: Breakfast


I’m wide awake at five-twelve. It’s been three weeks since I was laid off, but every few days I still wake up for the commute. I won’t get back to sleep, and if I try to read a book I’ll doze, and it’s too early to make the job-hunting calls I’m supposeed to make.

As I pour cereal, a little grean monster tumbles into the bowl. "Help me on my quest, and I will rewar–"

I crush the thing between two fingers. Oh, for the days of decoder rings and match-box cars. These things creep me out.

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