A Little Past Three

He sat at the table, holding his coffee cup and watching his wife as she ate her breakfast and scrolled through her device. Something was slightly off this morning, but Hank could not put his finger on what it might be.

Instead, he watched, and he thought.

As he finally took a gulp of coffee, it occurred to him that the answer might be within himself. He had awakened a little past three that morning, extremely dizzy.

“Could that be when it happened?” he questioned.

Hank quickly finished his coffee, kissed his wife on the forehead, and went out the door. He knew he’d have time to think as much as he wanted, but the corn would not harvest itself.

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