Table Talk
Who is he? What does he want with me? What’s wrong with me? How am I having nightmares in the middle of the day? Am I not getting enough sleep? Why did I pass out in the middle of class? Those eyes...endless blue eyes...
I shook my head and threw up mental walls to my thoughts, frantically searching for something to concentrate on and divert my thoughts to. My eyes landed on the luke warm mug of coffee in front of me. I stared into the disgusting brown liquid. I don’t know why I ordered coffee. I hate it. As I started to daydream, seeing patterns and shapes in the liquid, I wrapped my hands around the cold mug and forced myself to take a sip. I scrunched my eyes closed and forced myself to swallow the horrid, bitter taste. It felt like I was swallowing something worse than cough medicine. I’d compare it more to drain cleaner. How can people drink this stuff?
I shuddered as I managed to keep down the revolting liquid. I opened my eyes to see a rather bulky man sitting across from me, stubble on his double chin and a baseball cap backwards on his bald head. He wore shabby clothing, and looked like he probably hadn’t taken a shower in a couple days. He smiled brilliantly at me, a full set of white teeth. At least he brushes his teeth, I thought.
His frame shook with hearty laughter as he saw my appalled expression. I forced myself to smirk, and I leaned away from the table.
“Don’t like coffee?”
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Dreamer and Human
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Sweet Dreams!
May Nightmare spare you.
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