She spilled her hot coffee right in my lap. I didn't know if I was more angry or more in pain. She'd been balancing a full arm load of books, her phone, and her hot coffee. Oh, if only the phone had landed in my lap.
"Oops, sorry..." she said, as if she'd tapped my shoe with her toe.
"What the heck! Are you kidding me?" I think I said, although it might well have been peppered with some saucy language often heard in a commercial kitchen or volunteer fire house. I was not please. She kept on walking.
The coffee, about half escaped and half still in her cup, caused me to jump up and though I had nothing to spill, my journal did hit the floor and tear the page I was writing on. Stream of consciousness meet scream of coffee.
She kept on walking, still holding half a cup of coffee and whatever important information was displaying on her phone.
Be calm, I told myself. Maybe I shouldn't have been sitting on the floor. Maybe I should be glad the whole cup didn't hit me. Maybe I should change my pants.
Coffee. It's so much better to drink it than to spill it.
-- doug smith
1. Write without stopping for five minutes.
2. Add a random (if possibly related) image.