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Weekly Contest #92
My last friend dead, and still the breakfast comes. Puffy blonde Mel brings it, like always. “Good morning Mr. Somers,” she says with a cracked-lip smile spread across yellow teeth. Hard to tell which is yellower, her hair or her teeth. Ridiculous looking woman. Despite old Doug down the hall dying, which we all expected anyway, I’m in a pretty good mood, so I don’t tell her to go to hell. Breakfast is orange juice, which I hate, coffee, which I love but not they way they do it here, some kind of damned pastry and a cute little box of ...
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