Thursday

These days, they all blend together. Just another day, I think it was Thursday. Shit, shower, and shave, just like I did on Wednesday. Like most adults, I had mornings down to a science. As the towel carried the last drops of moisture to the floor, the coffee pot finished its magical mission. Delivering the nectar of the benevolent gods into a transparent casing, prepared for my digestion.

The rationing was the worst. Two cups of coffee a day is not nearly enough for a writer. There was plenty of whiskey at least, but still... not enough coffee. On top of that, when I looked in the fridge I realized if I wanted pleasure to last the week, I had to choose. Sugar or cream, but definitely not both.

I decided I could drink it black on Saturday, so I opted for both anyway.

I stood at the window, thinking about how I needed to get back to the real world. I needed to get back to it soon, but mornings are special. I sipped from my cup of decadently rich coffee and stared through the glass.

And into the darkness. The Void, someone was paid way too much to come up with that term. That was back when money mattered though. When there were still such things as ad men. That was back when our currency was made of paper. Now, it consisted of something more important. Now it was made of art.

I needed to get back to the real world.

I took another shallow draught of my beverage. I stared into the darkness, and we all know what happens when you do that. It filled me, or it refilled me. Inspiration was hard to come by after we recreated the world in our image. I remembered when the darkness that inspired me to write was literary. Now it was literal.

I imagined a sunrise. The kind I would have seen before the clandestine agency that separated those of us who created from those of you who consumed did their work. I knew there was one. My clock told me it was time for such things.

I could not see it though, just the void. That bothered me. That spoke to my artist's soul. It filled the inner being with words for the paper. I needed to get back to the real world.

I finished my coffee.

I sat down to write. Back to the real world, my real worlds. I had as many people from our previous reality to populate them as any of the other artists. Later I would log on and we would discuss what we were doing with them. I wanted a good story to tell.

Perhaps it was the all encompassing darkness that made me decide to write something light, and the varying degrees of such.

#shortstory #writing #Awethors