Flash Fiction: Smells Like Coffee

“Between the three of us, we have genius on lock,” said one, and he slurped his coffee. None of them noticed, or perceived even subconsciously, that they were breathing in perfect tandem.

“Oh, yes, we are sure to make this world quake with fear,” said another, and he took a long draw from the creamy froth he had in his cup.

“I agree,” said the third, and he wiped his brow, which was sweating. Without talking about it, planning, or any indication of forethought, the other two did so too.

“So, then, we should begin on the plan—we need to work out how we will rule the world.”

“I agree with that.” Slurp. “First though, I think I need a refill on this.” Continue reading

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