Myra had made a pot of decaf. She didn’t want anything adversely influencing her thoughts, like that time she was so buzzed from a post-coital espresso session with Brad that he managed to convince her to quit college and book a flight to Marrakesh, all before 10 in the morning. She had to be sure this time that she was making a level-headed decision. Riley didn’t have that problem. He’d heard the pros and cons of capital punishment when he was growing up in Galveston. He wanted the guy dead, and didn’t see why he had to suffer sloppy coffee along the way. Tom was tired of their talk, going over and over the details and practicalities. He couldn’t care about that. He’d spent 23 years carrying around the guilt from when he abandoned his baby daughter. He didn’t want another load on his back, one he might never learn to live with. No, someone else would have to do the killing, and he was sure he could get Riley to agree if he dropped a little something in the next pot of coffee.
(Exercise: Try to present God’s consciousness or POV. Since God should be efficient and get to the point, do this exercise in only 200 words.) From 3AM Epiphany. Based on yesterday exercise, An execution)