E
egghead
Guest
Original poster
His eyes cracked wide open when he felt the slightly itchy sheet cover his body. He didn't realize how cold he was until he had a blanket over him; he was shivering.
Thanks... He tried to say, but the words turned to sand in his throat. It didn't matter if he managed to speak anyway, he could already hear light snores and murmurs emanating from the bed.
Closing his eyes again, Glen drifted off into a dreamless sleep...
ー
...and awoke to the sun full on his face, baking his cheeks. Trying to ignore the stiffness in his neck, he sat upright in his "bed", peeling himself off of the sweaty leather like a bandage from a bloody knee.
Heaving his sorry excuse for a body towards the cheap-looking coffee maker tossed beside the broken lamp, joints cracking with every step, he decided to start the day off like he normally would at home: by having a cup o' joe.
Pretty soon the tiny room filled with the aroma of coffee, and Glen was back in the armchair, hands tingling from the uncomfortable warmth felt through the the plastic cup. He pulled it up to his lips and sipped carefully so that his tongue burned with the full bitter, sugarless favour.
Then he sighed and threw the half-empty cup into the trash; how could fresh coffee taste so stale?
Thanks... He tried to say, but the words turned to sand in his throat. It didn't matter if he managed to speak anyway, he could already hear light snores and murmurs emanating from the bed.
Closing his eyes again, Glen drifted off into a dreamless sleep...
ー
...and awoke to the sun full on his face, baking his cheeks. Trying to ignore the stiffness in his neck, he sat upright in his "bed", peeling himself off of the sweaty leather like a bandage from a bloody knee.
Heaving his sorry excuse for a body towards the cheap-looking coffee maker tossed beside the broken lamp, joints cracking with every step, he decided to start the day off like he normally would at home: by having a cup o' joe.
Pretty soon the tiny room filled with the aroma of coffee, and Glen was back in the armchair, hands tingling from the uncomfortable warmth felt through the the plastic cup. He pulled it up to his lips and sipped carefully so that his tongue burned with the full bitter, sugarless favour.
Then he sighed and threw the half-empty cup into the trash; how could fresh coffee taste so stale?
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