Friday Fictioneers-100 words on the above photo
“It’s a conspiracy.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then why all the coffee shops. Coffee. Never tea.”
“So move to England.”
“Wish I could.”
“You know you have your blasted tea. Why’re you complaining?”
“It’s the point of the thing.”
“Hmp…” He continued writing.
She stared at her screen. Eyes shifting to his flash; back again. Only copy.
Sip black tea. Only copy. One little baggie, a tiny sprinkle.
“I needa refill.”
“So get one.”
“Rude…”
He sighed, rose; swift she stirred, ejected, switched.
“Gotta go. “
He drank deep. “K”.
She wisked out; stupid coffee.
And was long gone before anyone noticed.
