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15_minute_ficI like to refer to myself as "moderator in absentia". *waves hi*
Don't look at the word until you are ready to write. When your fifteen minutes are up and you have completed your ficlet, you may either post it as a response here, or post a link to the ficlet in your own journal. If posting on your own journal, please hide the prompt word in some way (ie. under an LJ-cut) in order to avoid spoiling it for others.
Today's word is: coffee
You can copy and paste this code when posting your ficlet if desired.
Don't look at the word until you are ready to write. When your fifteen minutes are up and you have completed your ficlet, you may either post it as a response here, or post a link to the ficlet in your own journal. If posting on your own journal, please hide the prompt word in some way (ie. under an LJ-cut) in order to avoid spoiling it for others.
Today's word is: coffee
You can copy and paste this code when posting your ficlet if desired.
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Coffee
on 2008-10-01 08:21 pm (UTC)Fandom/original: Original
Characters: Alex, unnamed
Rating: G
Word count: 240
“Are you all right?”
Green eyes looked up at her. They were bloodshot and lined with evidence of too little sleep. But the boy they belonged to said nothing.
Alex sighed. “Look,” she said, “whatever it is, just order something, all right?” She spared a look over her shoulder at Mr. Johnson. “I’m supposed to kick you out after five minutes, unless you’ve ordered something and haven’t finished that something yet.”
“Two minutes.”
Alex blinked. “What?”
“You’re supposed to kick me out in two minutes,” the boy said, offering a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. His gaze flickered briefly over at the clock that hung on the far wall.
Alex looked at the clock. It was four-sixteen. “You came in at four-thirteen?” she asked and wondered silently who the boy was waiting for. She frowned, looking back at the boy.
He was fifteen, probably seventeen, if he was just naturally so thin that even if he were to grow, his shoulders would still be as tapered and his frame would still be as lithe. But no one so young had that look in their eyes. She saw it, sometimes, in the older men who came by and told their stories of blood and loss in the wars that they’d been too foolish to leave alone, or the ones who simply never said anything.
“You want some coffee?” she asked before she thought about it. “My treat,” she added quickly.