Another story for the
Thursday Friday Fictioneers. Here are other people’s stories based on this picture.
“The secret to perfect coffee is time and sunlight,” Roald said. His gaze bordered on manic. “Put beans and water outside and the sunlight slowly coaxes out the coffee’s spirit.”
“Sun coffee?” I asked, unimpressed.
“I also play music for the brew. Piano, some harp. I talk to it, and sing. Here’s the result.” He produced a small jar and an eyedropper. “Try it.”
I took a sip, then gulped down the whole thing as my brain fireworked. “This is heavenly,” I gasped. “Is there any more?”
“I’ll get right on that,” he growled. “Call me again in twelve years.”