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Monochrome - Ch. 01
The teacher smiled as she looked over her students shoulders. They were all drawing nice and quietly. She glanced at the drawing done by a little girl with white haired pulled into a low braid. “Shiroi,” said the teacher. “Why is the grass yellow? And… are those supposed to be clouds? Honey, we’re supposed to be drawing what you see out your window.”
Little Shiroi looked up at her teacher. Her grey eyes looked rather tired, like she had heard this complain more than enough times. “This is what I see…” Shiroi argued.
Sometimes, I don’t mind seeing things the way I do. But, I do want to see for myself what green looks like. What brown is, and orange.
Shiroi chugged down a few gulps of Moomoo Milk, right from the bottle, while in her half-awakened state. She wasn’t quite dressed yet, not completely, only in her black and white top, and blue denim shorts. She took out last night&
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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