500 Words – Entry 32: A coffee with Mr. Diamond

Hey! Let’s revisit Mr Diamond!

A coffee with Mr. Diamond

It was one of those plaves where the sun was so hot even the air seemed to sweat and Douglas Diamond hated all places without air-condition.
”I want my coffee black from the best damned bean you savages can find in this shed.” Even that was probably worse than the mass produced shit the supermarkets had at home, when he thought about it. It was probably so bad even the cup threw it up.
Douglas would drink it anyway. It was coffee after all. One of three things he actually enjoyed.
His reputation was the second.
The pressing on his suit was the third.
Both was as spoiled as the coffee now handed to him. All just because of one lousy letter. Somehow these things always end in the wrong hands. The hands that make stocks plummet and companies go from top 500 to bottom hundred in a week.
I will kill whomever wrote that bloody thing, he thought as he sipped the dark cocktail of manure this tribe called coffee.
The cup actually seemed to shake in his hands from disgust.
”Everything to your liking sir?”
”How dare you speak to me without being asked?!” Douglas spat the coffee in the man’s face. It tasted even more bitter on the way out.
As the coffee dripped down on the ground, the man’s face fell with it. He screamed.
Douglas looked at the scenery. How the hell? Then his coffee in his cup fell out through the bottom.
Douglas coughed. His hands turned red.
As he fell to the ground ha saw a smiling face among the crowd. When everyone else escaped she stood still. She laughed.
”Pigs die but witches and hunters survive!” She said.
Witches? Douglas thought. Hunters?
The girl picked a knife from her belt and walked closer. Her shoes faded away in the fog.
”I wonder what privilege tastes like?” She whispered in his ear.
Douglas never felt the stabs. He was dead before two hands broke his ribcage open.

Privilege tasted delicious. That could Douglas have told her if she had let him survive.

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