Frantic Palace

The stasis drops of mildewed kaleidoscopes shimmered in the distance as Bob once again realized he had left his coffee on the kitchen table.

“There are certain underling assignments that I may miss if given a chance at the big leagues,” he mused heading for the company cafe.”

This time, he would finally give a shot of that caramel liquid he had so yearned for so many times.

“If I don’t watch my waist line, nobody will.” He laughed to himself.

But no one was laughing. He had told the joke one too many times.

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