Sleepers

S. K. Nicholas

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The cigarette sits perched on an empty can of beer. She looks at it, looks at the ceiling, looks back to the cigarette, then closes her eyes and falls asleep. Her bra smells of milk, and she hasn’t taken it off in days. Can’t be bothered. No energy. No desire. Whatever. I’m in the shower masturbating. There’s nothing on my mind, and I don’t even really want to, but it’s good to clear out the tubes. At least that’s what I once heard. And it releases endorphins, right? So it’s kinda like taking a vitamin tablet, or something. When I’m finished and have washed away the remains of my vacant act, I go downstairs and cook her two eggs making sure not to break the yolks. When they’re looking good, I place each one on a slice of lightly buttered toast and pour her a glass of orange juice. Taking…

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Author: oldepunk

Writing about my views of the world in a stream of conscience style

One thought on “Sleepers”

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