Something big’s going to happen today. I just know it. It’s been foreseen.
But nothing’s happened so far. I arrived at my desk this morning, unpacked my backpack, logged on, clocked in, and drank my coffee.
And I waited. I expected something remarkable to happen–something great, terrible, or ominous. Or maybe all three, if I was lucky. Perhaps a great hole would open in the ceiling and consume my desk and chair, rendering me unable to work. Maybe someone would replace everything on my desk with an exact copy, accelerating some deep-seeded existential crisis. Or possibly one of my various copies would try to replace me, leaving the future authorship of this blog ambiguous.
But nothing has happened today.
What a joke.
I opened my yellow spiral-bound notebook and turned to a blank page. I wrote today’s date in the top right-hand corner. Beneath it, I wrote myself a note.
Trust no one, it said.
This is not the last you’ll hear of October 9th.
“Morning coffee” is a serial fiction series, served fresh daily. So far, we’ve covered rubberneckers, co-workers, cubicle stains, office plants, desk trophies, conspiracies, secret organizations, pocket dimensions, black holes, and impending, inevitable doom. And that’s just the beginning.
Where should we go next? Let me know in the comment section below.