Mozart #39

Flash Fiction

A crackle of silky-smooth burns from speakers with a turntable. It was too much wit. I boomed my head to the rhythm anyway. I looked down at the graph paper and fiddled with the eraser with both hands. I look up at my phone to see 23:26. Problems sets need food badly.

Where are the cello sets lingering? They shall slay the mine enemy. Snap crackle pop. Flesh not foraging for grades.

I looked up again at the double windows. Was the car had come home? Not yet and never more. Time to pull the all-nighter. Again.