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CorridorI see the exit ahead, the only exit from this long, dark, empty corridor...
Joyful feelings fill my body as I reach for the handle, twist and pull open. The bright white light brings a joyful smile upon my face. It's over, I finally escaped him...or so I hoped...
I go to step out of the door way into the light only to be grabbed by the leg. I look down to see who or what has ahold of me. But the white light blinds me, I turn to see him, but the absolute darkness masks him. The only thins visible are the door, myself, and a pale white bloody hand with razor sharp claws. He try's to pull me back into the darkness. I grab ahold of the door nob with all my might. I cry as he pulls harder, I find myself face first into the hard cold metal floor. I quickly claw for anything I can grab on to, trying to escape the darkness. I grasp on to the bottom of the metal door, tears flowing down my face, darkness entering my heart, fear eating me away. "I'm sorry my love... I tried to stop him..." Were
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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