Goodreads asked Jenn Thorson:

Can you tell us a two-sentence horror story?

Jenn Thorson After a restless night of hot and cold dreams, cycling like the distant squeak of the spinning rooftop weathervane, Annabel padded worn and weary down creaking steps to the kitchen dim. A flip of the switch illuminated the monstrous truth she had somehow dared forgotten, that which had been neglected by careful ink-stained lists and the sweetest daylight intentions: the coffee canister was empty.

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