Entry Four in the Anthology of "The's": Crowd Tides at the Station

The train screeched by the narrow ledge of platform where ozens upon dozens of people waited anxiously to get in. Holding on to and with everything I had i waited for the tide of people to push. I was too far back in the crowd (no linger just a line) to get tugged by the udertoe just yet. So I waited impatiently for the sea of people before me to disperse and fill the train. It was too much to hope to get in, though I was already late, but at least if this crowd lessened I could get in on the train. I really felt the urge to push when the next train came in though. I wasn't technically late, in fact at this rate I was early. But my officemates and I had made a deal that whoever came in past our agreed call time would have to treat us out to dessert or something. My only chance was if they came late too, in which case the last two to arrive would be the ones to provide the treats. But since there were only three of us in on it, things were not looking up. By the second--or was it third?--train I has been swept by the crowd to the near front. I was definitely gonna get in. But a trampling was also possible. Around five minutes later I found myself, barely breathing with my sleeves half off my shoulder, wedged between arms, and elbows. I just hope I made it in time. Squeezing out the train after another five long minutes or so I rushed to the FX stop. The train ride had taken my energy and as I sat exhausted on the back seat of the FX I felt my phone beep. Too tired to check I resigned myself to my fate. But as I arrived at the office I found there was some good news: we were all late. So I got a free pie today but I would also pay for meal drinks tomorrow. Life's an empty train on rush hour, you never know what you're gonna get.

Entry Three in the Anthology of "The's": Today's Cup of Coffee

The coffee machine sputtered white and then transparent liquid. It did not at all look like coffee. In fact, if I thought about it looked rather gross. Like baby vomit. Then there was dark brown liquid that came out and the machine ended its sputtering. A few minutes before this the girl behind the counter was changing out the machine. It's the only reason I didn't cancel my order on a cup of cappuccino. My would be cup of coffee is left to steam off on its own beneath the machine's mouth while the girl goes back to the kitchen. I am secretly willing the contents of it to swirl and mix together into the delicious cup of caffeine I will be having later. The girl comes out and does not stir it, as I had hoped she would. I take a stirrer for myself as she seals the cup of coffee ingredients with a cover. But I guess I can't blame her. She didn't see the three different color—that should have come out as one—sputter from the instant coffee machine.

Entry Two in the Anthology of "The's": The Cursor

The cursor stands blinking as I wonder what to type in this new entry. I always liked blank sheets because they promised much. But this is really turning out to be a mind numbing exercise for me. What to write? What comes after the word "the"? SO many posibilities to beging with from a single word. So may stories to be told. So much blank space to fill. Now I look again at the cursor, as it flies through the blank page spitting words out like a hefty sack of flour or rice dragged across the floor with a hole, exposing its contents for all the world to see. And my mind is laid bare as such, even as I look at the moving cursor, and it is no longer blinking the way it did a few moments ago as if asking, "What's on your mind?"