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Four times a day,
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get the words out.
Write in any genre in
300 words or less.
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Write. Now.
remnants of a routine morning
float & drift & waft
through tinted seas & streams
of liquid air humidified
by breaming steam
to set off (caffeine) vessels (more)
He always had his tea at eight in the morning. That's why, when they found his body, they knew he had been dead a least a day- because his tea, despite the fact that it was eight o' seven, was sitting, ice cold, in its saucer on the table.
My dad's mom died of ovarian cancer when I was five years old. Actually, that's not exactly true. She died of the flu, which normally doesn't kill anyone, but it killed her because of how weak she had become from ovarian cancer. So, I guess the cancer killed her,(more)
Night turns into later that night, and I'm not sure how I got here. Assumptions were made. Some of those assumptions were a little less than spot-on. And if there's an "unsend" option in gmail, then I can't find it, and I haven't figured out the right combo of(more)
Liquid the color of amber and reminding me of Grandma.
Summer's sweet sun beverage.
Sugared down more than a blow-pop.
I'm left clenching my jaw until the liquid has traveled down my throat to lay sloshing in my gut.
I sigh the heat of summer away with the refresh(more)
The tea was as cold as that rainy winter morning. Daniel sat at the table, sipping the cup as he read the newspaper. The house was completely silent, save for the water drops that fell outside. His wife had already taken the children to school, and she would only(more)
'Honey, the tea is cold.'
'Is it?'
'It is.'
As Jared waited for additional explanation or any kind of a reaction from her, she poured the juice in her cup facing the other way. He sat down at the table, wondering if she'll join him or not this morning.(more)