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Breakfast: Ritual

18 Nov

(Double drabble because I slept yesterday instead of writing. It happens.)

He smacked the alarm clock into silence without opening his eyes. He tossed back the covers and groped for the discarded pair of jeans crumpled next to the bed. He stretched, scratched, and slipped on the pants. His eyes were no wider or more frequently opened than absolutely necessary.

He shuffled into his kitchen and filled the coffee pot with water. It splashed on the counter as he filled the reservoir. Grounds scattered as he tossed the poorly leveled scoops into the filter. He’d clean up later. He growled as he forced the filter back onto its tracks. He pushed the “Brew” button. One breath. Two. The smell of fresh coffee and the anticipation of caffeine granted him the ability to keep his eyes half-open.

He felt around in the cabinet above the pot. Finding nothing he turned to the sink and cursed. He inspected three cups lining the sink and rinsed it out until it looked relatively clean. He turned back to the pot and waited. His eyes slipped shut and he wavered on his feet.

The coffee maker beeped as it finished. With the barest hint of a smile he pulled the pot off the burner and poured breakfast.

 

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