By Chrissie Rohrman
I await my turn to order, desperately needing coffee. My head feels odd, my memory mashed.
I overslept, rushed out the door with only a quick peck for Dave.
Sunlight stabs my eyes. Impatient, I jab the woman in front of me. “What’s the holdup? It’s just coffee.”
Confused, she turns away without answering.
You’re a bundle of nerves, Dave said.
The light intensifies. A horn sounds. My temples throb.
You need to relax.
Not sunlight.
Headlights.
That deathtrap intersection at 9th and Main.
Slow down a bit.
A chill overtakes me, and I understand.
I’m not in line for coffee.
Great example of micro-fiction. Leaves you with a cold chill.
Great story with such a great misdirect. We know something’s off, but only when you re-read it do you pick up the signs. Wonderful last line. Great job Chrissie!
Nailed it!
And this is how it’s done. Great job, Chrissie!
Perfect story!
I loved the movement from the heat of her impatience to the chill of her realisation – great structure.
Thanks for the good read.
Amazing! So well done in so few words!
Great story! The suspense was amazing
Terrific! This says absolutely everything it needs to without wasting a word. Well done!
Brilliant. My thoughts keep returning to this story. I am driving more carefully!
Sigh…the confusion that brings death. Nicely written