Even before these events transpired, my barrista, the summum bonum of my life, divined them in the grinds.
She summoned me (“Bertie”), supplied my ususal combustible concoction, and intoned, “Enjoy.”
It wasn’t what she said but the way she said it.
“Rad, Jeeves, what ho!” said I.
As I blew out the door, winds exceeding 90 mph blew through the Savannah café. I landed down the road on Aunt Agatha’s bulldog, Horatio, who was as pleased to see me as a vulture on resurrection day.
My espresso, as predicted, survived. Extricating myself from Horatio, I took a sip. I enjoyed.
genre: fan fiction; word count: 100; Rochelle Wisoff-Fields kindly invites us to join the Friday Fictioneers in their weekly creative quests of a hundred words or less. Photo prompt © Dale Rogerson Click on the frog and join in!