Gordon awakens every day at 6.26am, precisely. Stretches, albeit gingerly at his middling age lest he pull a muscle and steps, unhappily out of bed into the cool morning.
Breakfast is compact, the commute looms large. Spoon and bowl arranged prior, a proper boy scout.
A shower, a shake and off he pursues the daily grind.
At 5.49pm, arrival home. Gin and tonic, the place: a worn out comfy chair with attendant expectant dog. At 6.29pm, dog delivered to the park.
Home: food, news, e-mails and television. Spoon and bowl sorted.
10.47pm.
Bed.
6.34am.
Stretch.
Cold.
No spoon.
No spoon?
©DJA 2020
From the Compendium of One Hundred Word Stories
The Angry Farmer 