Mindless

Seven in the morning. It’d had already slid into another shitty day when Don’s mind shrilly and loudly said, “I can’t take this fucking shit.”

That tone cut Don’s ear drums. As Don winced and clapped his hands over his ears, his mind stomped through his brain. “I’m fuckin’ outta here.”

Looking up, Don said, “No, wait,” beginning to stand as all this happened. His mind wrenched his brain’s door open.

Used to being closed, the door shrieked, “Hey, what the fuck? I was sleepin’, man.”

Stepping out, his mind slammed the door shut behind him, rattling Don’s empty head. The door said, “That’s fuckin’ better. Now keep it down. I need some zzzs.”

Just like that, Don’s mind was gone again.

Sitting, Don sighed. Sipping his soda, he picked up his phone with his little hands and opened Twitter. It was gonna be another mindless fucking day for him.

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