A Will At Work

TheCheshireChris

I'm just this guy, you know?

To expand on that, I am also the following...

- A former ficly member who is 38 years old and is schizoaffective (depressive type)

- Into creating languages and fantasy worlds from scratch

- A listener of audiobooks & good tunes

- Always too hard on myself


Form #1054B, It was too early for form #1054B.

I took a sip of my coffee. It was black. Not because I took it that way, but because someone had taken the last of those little individual creamer cups. Also, nobody had refilled the sugar over the weekend either. I was unsure exactly whose job it was to keep both of those things in stock in the kitchenette, but I had long suspected it was some kind of elf or pixie. Probably an elf, just because I don't know if pixies can lift sugar bags that large. Unless it was an army of them, but then that doesn't seem terribly efficient when I single elf can do the same task alone.

At any rate, my coffee was black. Strike one, Monday. Strike one.

I felt the walls of my cubicle close in ever so slightly. I looked to my left and saw a red stapler. It was the color of adventure, I thought.

Why would I think that? I had never associated adventure with a color before.

The stapler whispered "Just go, man. Do it. Just go, man, go."

I didn't analyze the situation. I just went.


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Comments (1 so far!)

Average reader rating 5.00/5

slapdashmonuments

slapdashmonuments

And so begins our greatest adventure!

  • #1903 Posted 5 years ago
  • 0
  • 5 out of 5

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