The Poor Little Fishies

Jack checked himself out in the mirror, fresh from the shower, and decided today was the day. For what, he wasn’t sure yet, but it didn’t really matter. He smoothed his mustache and nodded at his reflection. Today was a no-shirt day, so he pulled some pants on and headed downstairs.

His wife Sarah was busy cooking breakfast in the kitchen, rattling pans and splashing water. Jack startled when he saw her, because it was far from pancakes in the frying pan on the stove.

“Fish? For breakfast?” he asked, squinting one eye and pulling up the side of his lip in a sneer.

“Aye, admiral!” Sarah answered. “Twas a tragic thing, and I feel guilty for it, but I bought this fish for dinner yesterday and then forgot all about them when you said you wanted pizza.” She shrugged and returned to her clatter.

Jack turned toward the coffee maker with a gloomy look on his face, but perked up quite a bit when he saw that she’d also gotten his favorite brand of coffee, in spite of her distaste for it. “Fish it is!”

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Coffee, Hold the Sunrise

Caroline smiled approvingly down at the scale, happy to whittle down her waistline like the tortoise, not the hare. She stepped off and grabbed her toothbrush to fill it with minty freshness from a tube. Teeth properly cleaned, she washed her hands and put her contacts in. She blinked her eyes rapidly, making sure everything was in place, and cinched her bathrobe belt around her waist before heading for the kitchen.

With the kids gone, and Kenneth long since kicked to the curb, Caroline loved a good peaceful cup of coffee while catching up on her Facebook feed. She drank her Folgers black, and with the cup steaming like a house afire, she carted her laptop out to the back patio to take in the sunrise.

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She chuckled at cat videos while sipping her morning joe,and suddenly remembered her desperate need for corn tortillas. She pulled her ever-present notepad and pencil from her bathrobe pocket and flipped to a fresh page. The pencil felt a bit odd in her hand, so she held it up like a pistol, and she sighted down the barrel. It looked fine. She shrugged and precisely printed corn tortillas on the first line.

Nothing was groundbreakingly new in Facebookland, so Caroline gently closed her laptop and leaned back in her chair, crossing her left leg over her right. She held her mug with both hands and took a long sip of her now-cooled coffee, letting the steam bathe her pores. The clouds in the sky blocked her view of the sunrise, so she sighed and tucked her notebook back into her pocket as she rose to go inside and dress for the day.

TBP OLWG #27 15 minutes, I choose 17.


Rough Morning

I woke up to the crystalline tinkle of glass shattering on my kitchen floor. I groaned to myself as I slipped out of bed to go find out which pet was responsible for the mess. Probably Max. 

When I got out there, nothing was out of place. I blinked at the lack of mess for a moment before shrugging it off as a particularly vivid dream. 

Then I stepped on a fresh, warm, extra squishy hairball.