Suitable Bags of Flesh

Side Story: Nails on Coffee (part 27)

“Breakfast is ready,” said a young man, his height looks like it’s meant to be an impression of an adolescent’s body. But his face looked one minute like a human, then the other static in the shape of a boy’s head.

“What do you prefer?” He continued to ask as the scenery from a long corridor colored in monotone became a well-lit garden surrounding a metal table ornated with décor of ivy plants around its four legs, topped by clear glass.

On top of the glass table sat a Victorian marble-top coffee table fit to the circumference of the larger table under, there is simplicity at how pristine it lacked artistic décor, except for how the marble looked on the thickly varnished hard-wood body. A plate of cookies sat on the coffee table layer, while the cups are on the normal table at the side of the coffee table.

Two chairs sat on opposing sides of the table, both looking different from the other. Old in demeanor