Jim would like to be coffee.
It may sound weird, but to him it seems like a rational thing to be thinking.
He wouldn't have to feel things- he would be an inanimate object.
He would make people happy, whereas he feels he only makes them sad.
And he would be gone.
Down through someone else.
And then it's all over.
Well it would be.
But Jim is not coffee- oh no, he is something much more real, something much more painful.
He is human.
And it sucks.
Jim is sitting on his couch, staring emotionlessly at the TV.
He only knew her for a short while.
But she had a major impact on his life. He is grateful for the short forever that they had.
But now it's over, what does he do?
He sits there all day, and well into the night, and he just thinks.
Because really, does he have anything better to do?
The only other thing he has is the trains.
And even they aren't going to last forever.
YOU ARE READING
Trains
General FictionEvery day at precisely 8:17 Jim gets on the train with a coffeee and his newspaper. He has been doing this for twenty years. But as we all know, nothing stays the same for ever.
