Wake Up Call by Nny
Wake Up Call
200 words
John's kisses were like coffee.
Not in taste so much as the way they fit into his head. Coffee is - something Rodney’s never quite managed to adequately describe. So much more than a stimulant, which is why no one working in his department (bar Radek, occasionally) will ever get a taste of his personal stash. It’s almost like a lens through which the world makes more sense; reality filter coffee. (He’s almost embarrassed to have thought that but not quite.)
That meant that coffee was where it had usually started to go wrong; a harmonious relationship couldn’t survive logic rearing its well-caffeinated head and forcing him to confront mono, SAT scores, the impossibility of interest in cacti. Age gaps.
Until then there was John, and John’s addictive kisses, and how John’s kisses were like coffee; how everything made more sense with their addition. How Rodney’s mornings didn’t work without them.
Now, though, coffee is like John’s kisses, and that’s an order of priorities Rodney’s not sure he knows how to deal with. It feels fragile yet safe at the same time; elegant molecules fashioned with invisible bonds and strung through every part of him.
Like coffee, and like John’s kisses.
200 words
John's kisses were like coffee.
Not in taste so much as the way they fit into his head. Coffee is - something Rodney’s never quite managed to adequately describe. So much more than a stimulant, which is why no one working in his department (bar Radek, occasionally) will ever get a taste of his personal stash. It’s almost like a lens through which the world makes more sense; reality filter coffee. (He’s almost embarrassed to have thought that but not quite.)
That meant that coffee was where it had usually started to go wrong; a harmonious relationship couldn’t survive logic rearing its well-caffeinated head and forcing him to confront mono, SAT scores, the impossibility of interest in cacti. Age gaps.
Until then there was John, and John’s addictive kisses, and how John’s kisses were like coffee; how everything made more sense with their addition. How Rodney’s mornings didn’t work without them.
Now, though, coffee is like John’s kisses, and that’s an order of priorities Rodney’s not sure he knows how to deal with. It feels fragile yet safe at the same time; elegant molecules fashioned with invisible bonds and strung through every part of him.
Like coffee, and like John’s kisses.