Man, I'm so glad to have broken my writer's block! Anyway, this story is part of a weekly game, if you will, a circle of writers on FA participate in. The "Thursday Prompt"--whose name I believe is self-explanatory--for this week was "Sacrifice". Since I just thought of something today (on the bus home, in fact), it's a little...rushed, so you'll have to bear with me on some parts; constructive criticism is always good, though. Oh, and just a heads up, this has furries, so if that's not your thing, you should probably hit "back" now.

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“Excuse me; are you alive?”

An unusual question to ask, but it seemed appropriate as Matthew tried to rouse the raccoon slumped over the lunch table.

“I’m sorry, but if you’re dead, please say so,” the crow continued as he began poking the pile of fur. Her only indication that she still remained in the land of the living was a tired grunt. “Come on, if you’re dead, I don’t wanna hafta be the one to move your corpse.”

“I’m not dead yet,” muttered the raccoon as she turned her head to face him. “Jesus, you can be so annoying at times, Matt.”

“Oh, Shannon! Good to see you’re still with us,” said the crow with a wry smile as he say down across from her. “How goes day six without a single drop of joe?”

“How do you think?” snapped back the raccoon. She then signed and continued, “I don’t mean to be irritable, but the whole thing has me kinda edgy.”

Matthew let out a small chuckle. “Well, just remember that it’s good for your health, not chugging three pots of that stuff every morning.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m about to drop?”

“Well, it beats being jittery, I guess.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Anyway,” said the crow, “you’re just gonna have to find a way to cope. Perhaps more sleep would solve your recurring fatigue?”

“With newspaper and my crappy job? Likely.”

“A different pick-me-up, then. Hmm…I bet you didn’t eat breakfast again, did you? How ‘bout I get you an O.J. or something?”

“I’ll be fine,” Shannon replied, and, after a pause, added, “but thanks anyway.”

“Well, if you need anything…” started Matt, a blaring ring over the P.A. cutting him short. “Crap, I gotta get going,” he said, rising from the table and swing his worn backpack onto his shoulder. “Try to stay away from any bright lights and late beckoning relatives, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” the raccoon said as the crow took his leave. She remained slumped on the table, staring into space for a minute or two longer, then rose.

“First period calculus test today…lovely,” Shannon muttered as she gathered her belongings. “I don’t know how much more I can take of this.”