That Morning Coffee

and a red airplane

From Steve’s Chronicles, Entry #4


Steve had no friends, but it never presented any problems to him. He always lived his life for himself, not caring about others and what they think. Every day for him was a party. He had no one to impress, no one’s ass to kiss, and no one to fear. He could finally say that he was independent with great pride and joy until that one day when he got hit by a mini-van. As he lied in the ambulance with a mouth full of blood and a paramedic holding a chunk of his tongue in a Ziploc bag, he couldn’t help but assume he was going to die. While he hoped to have a flashback of good memories to be the last thing he sees, the regret of not having a good friend to erase his browser history was a far more overwhelming thought.

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