M Damon Miller

One Strange Day

Clarissa made a sound like a bag of gravel being mixed in a blender as she entered the coffee shop. “Dear God…” she muttered as she stood too close to the door for her own comfort. She had snoozed her alarm approximately one thousand times and still had wet hair from her run around the shower. She shivered from the cold and looked around at all the glowing faces of people that had risen with the sun. They looked like they had their lives together, with their new model laptops and fancy tablets.