Cynthia drank the last dregs of the cheap coffee she'd bought overpriced at some global company, she began to regret leaving her flat now; its warm air-conditioning, satelite television, cosy bed, hot water... coffee machine. Why had she left?!
The e-mail.
That was it.
That e-mail had changed everything.
Turned her whole world upside.
And if it turned out it was a joke?
Then someone was gonna pay...
And she so hoped it's turn out to be life.
A waitress, with tightly curled hair piled upon her head as if she was a merringue, flounced over to her, "may I take your cup, miss?"
"Y'know what?" Cynthia replied, twirling it by the handle by her index finger, "no. You may not have it back. Let's see how penny-pinching this place is." Expertly, with a flick of her wrist, the mug went flying into the air and smashed spectacuarly on the neatly polished mosaic floor.
"Thought so. Don't make them like they used to, eh? What shitty bastard thought that charging us coffee more than it's worth was a brilliant idea?"
Everyone in the café was glaring at her.
Most of them rich commuters.
Life had favourites.
The waitress looked as if she was going to cry; she was likely to get fired today.
"Who decided to fuck with me again? Hmm. Who?" Cynthia cried out to the room.
No-one answered.
Life was some bastardly coward: Cynthia thought.
"Fuck life." She said aloud, and calmly strolled out of the door.
YOU ARE READING
Working Progress
ActionA story about a girl whose life doesn't seem to give her any answers, and where life itself wants to control her. Needless to say she tries to rebel against it's plan for her.
