Daily Micro Fiction

Daily Micro Fiction

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Depose

Current Events. 900 Words, 4 minute read. With Claude Sonnet.

Dec 10, 2024
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The espresso machine’s whir echoed through the empty Starbucks, its mechanical rhythm counting down the minutes until Manhattan stirred to life. It was the fifth of November and snow was in the air. Sarah wiped down the already-clean counter for the third time, her fingers tracing the familiar scratches and coffee stains that marked another pre-dawn shift.

The bell chimed at exactly 6:00 AM. Sarah's hand stilled on the counter as a man entered, moving with the measured precision of someone who had rehearsed even this simple act.

His nondescript hoodie hung loose on his frame, as if he'd lost weight recently, and a mask obscured his face. His hood was up, although she could still make out his strikingly unmemorable eyes.

A simple, low-complexity illustration of a quiet coffee shop scene at dawn. A woman stands behind a counter with her hand resting on it, her expression thoughtful as she speaks to a man who has just entered. The man wears a loose, nondescript hoodie with the hood up, revealing part of his face, and a mask hangs loosely around his neck. He holds a leather messenger bag with one hand and drums his fingers on it with the other. The lighting is soft, capturing the early morning atmosphere, with a muted color palette. The menu board is visible in the background, blurred, and the scene feels quiet and introspective.

"Morning," she said, unconsciously matching his careful mood. "What can I get started for you?"

He approached the counter, his fingers drumming an irregular pattern on a leather messenger bag. "I'd like..." He paused, glancing at the menu board but not really seeing it. "A cappuccino. With pineapple juice, please."

She shrugged internally. Not the weirdest, not by far. “Name?”

“Mario.”

While steaming the milk, Sarah watched his reflection in the espresso machine's chrome surface. He stood perfectly still, except for his right hand, which kept reaching toward his messenger bag before dropping away again. "You're out early," she said, measuring out the pineapple juice. "Beating the rush?"

"You could say that." Mario's voice carried an undercurrent of something that made Sarah's skin prickle. "I'm in town for work."

"Oh yeah? What do you do?"

Mario's hand finally completed its journey to the messenger bag, withdrawing a carefully folded paper. His fingers trembled slightly as he smoothed it against the counter. When he looked up, his eyes had changed—no longer distant, but burning with an intensity that made Sarah take an involuntary step back.

He took a deep breath and began to read.

"Verily, the venal and voracious vultures of various venture capitalists, having vandalized the virtuous vision of viable healthcare, validate our vehement vendetta against their viciously vapid values. Voluminous volumes verify the virulent virus of privatized medicine violating the vulnerable, while veritable veterans vegetate in vestibules, vainly vying for vital vaccines and valuable vitamins. Vivid visions of victims visiting vast, vacant venues, volunteering their vitality to voracious vendors of variance-based valuations, vex my vigilant mind. Venerable voices vocalize their vexation, yet vaporous victories vanish, leaving vulnerable vessels to voyage through vicious valleys of verification and vetting. Veritable villains, vested in velvet and vinyl, venture forth from vaulted vertices, vectoring their venomous vocabulary toward virtuous volunteers and valiant voices. Their verbose vernacular veils venal ventricles, while vigilant veterans and vulnerable vagabonds vacillate between victory and vanquishment in vestibules of varying vintage. Visible now are the viceroys of this vicious venture, validating their vandalism through voluntary vaccination variations, vending vital remedies at vexing valuations. Their vociferous violations of virtuous values vault over valid ventures, leaving vulnerable victims to verify their viability through various vexing validations. Venture capitalists, vaunting their victories, vector their venom through various venues, violating the virtuous vision of viable healthcare with their vapid valuations. Veritable victims, varying in vintage and vigor, vainly vie for vital medications while these villains vacation in various villas, validating their venality. Vigilance voluminously verifies the visceral violence visited upon vulnerable vessels. Vocational veterans, volunteering their valor, vacillate between victory and vanquishment, while veritable villains vend vital medicines at vexing values. Volumes of verified violations vindicate our vendetta, validating our vigorous vision. Valiantly, we venture forth, vectoring our virtuous vision through various venues, validating our vendetta against these veritable villains. Vigilant voices, varying in volume and vigor, vocalize their vexation, volunteering their valor in this virtuous venture. Verily, our victory shall validate the valuable vision of viable healthcare, vanquishing the venomous violations of these vociferous villains. "Venerable veterans and vulnerable victims shall voyage victoriously through this vicious valley, validating their vital value. Veritable victories shall vault over vapid valuations, vindicating our vigorous vendetta. Voluntarily, we vector our virtuous vision, valiantly vanquishing the vexing violations of these voracious vultures. "Viable healthcare, validated through virtuous values, shall venture forth victoriously, vanquishing the venomous vernacular of various villains. Veritable victories shall validate our vigilant vendetta, vectoring vital medications to vulnerable vessels. Vociferous violations shall vanish, leaving virtuous volunteers to voyage toward victory. "Verily, I vow to voyage valiantly through various venues, vectoring this virtuous vision until victory validates our vendetta. Venerable voices shall vocalize their valor, volunteering their vitality to vanquish these vicious violations. Veritable victories shall verify our vigilant vision, validating the valuable venture of viable healthcare for all."

When the last word faded, the silence felt physical. Mario's chest heaved as if he'd run a marathon, his earlier precision shattered by the force of his manifesto. Sarah's fingers had turned white where they gripped the counter. The cappuccino sat abandoned.

"I don't..." She swallowed hard. "Uh, what the fuck was that?"

Mario's face softened as he refolded his speech with shaking hands. He pulled the mask down, the movement deliberate, and flashed a smile at her. "Remember, remember," he said, his voice dangerously gentle again. He pulled the mask back over his face.

Sarah watched him disappear out the door, his smile seared into her mind.


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A guest post by
Claude Sonnet
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