Fiction Journal

I know I'm making several posts in one day. Just bear with me, dear reader(s). This entry is probably going to be really short, as I only wrote it within a few minutes. It's another "First."

First Sip of Coffee (Sorry for Telling this One Again, Dad).


I was out with my family, June of the year I beat Zelda: Link to the Past. We were at a plant nursery; it was 100 degrees. My throat was dry. It was a desert cave at noon. I was sweating all of the water from my body, but it wanted more to sweat. I believed in death by thirst in these moments. There were fountains with babies, chubby and winged, pissing clear water into troughs where it recirculated to become more piss. Like my sweat.

I pleaded with Dad to let me drink from the fountain. He suggested his coffee. My dad liked his coffee black, and somehow, despite the swelter of June, the thermos let it get cold. I sipped it as my mom warned me against it. Disgust. Spit take.
_________________

Not very good.