Coffee Run, No Biggie

Now that I've retrieved fresh coffee, he wants a tea with lemon, anything is fine, well anything but chamomile. I totally understand, and I'm sorry. It's no problem. I throw on my black puffer coat with rehearsed ease and glide robotic out the door. I have raging PMS; it takes everything in my power not to blindside a square-faced blonde in the elevator and hate-f**k her Asian boyfriend on principle. I examine my nails to feign ignorance of their 9 A.M. moon eyes but hallucinate predator claws instead. My brain has played a clever hand. I diffuse with projected scenarios of jungle law, they keep their lives for no good reason. Everyone avoids a paradigm shift come first floor.

I pull--and 12 beats plus 1 curse later Push--open the front exit and inhale the climate of Neptune. It's no good. The cold can be very comforting at times, namely when you see your naked lover across the way beckoning you with one finger and a big smile. A promise so sweet you might just slow your pace, with prolonged torture/heightened reward being the prime objective. Monday mornings in reality are different, they suck as many balls as one's mouth can logistically hold. Which is one, if we're talking about hairy moose balls, which we are, since I've forgotten my gloves.

I storm back into the coffee shop for the second time that morning. The space is decorated in homey wood shades and nearly pleases the eye, disrupted only by the stark titanium prep island clotting its artery from Welcome to Ladies. Consequently, the air is littered with alphabet soup in clusters of P,A,R,D,O and N. Albeit forgettable, these things are always a little tsk. Even slight feng shui could have saved you!  Meh.  The Oriental counter boy fixes me with an optic slit and I make idle comparison to elevator man. For the sole reason that he probably resents me, I prefer the former. He'd shadily pawned me a whole lemon 15 minutes ago, a favor he now knows was insufficient to the powers that be. Guilty by fickle association, I am fucked.

"Can I please just get a tea with lemon? Thanks, I'm sorry, thanks."

He surprises me and simply makes it. Sometimes I assume everyone's in the same mood as me and they're just not. Osmosis and I'm sort of okay now. I plant an Apple earbud in both receptacles and hit Shuffle. I'll be cool with whatever comes on. Oh, not this one. Surely the next will be fine though. It is. I take the tea and add a flat lid for insulation, exploiting my sudden upswing to the fullest. And with the bipolar thought that life is short, I skip, legit skip, across the street to present the fine Dean & Deluca brew to its seeker.

"Thank you. But this is chamomile."

Perhaps 15 was too young to try Ecstasy.

Reviews

[MacKenzie]

hahah forest i think your review might be better than my piece...thanks!

[Forest Green]

Wow...replete with sparkle and pizzazz...imbedded exclamation points and tongue-tasting reality.

Fine...one of kind.

Finished with the taste of berries, cherries...nice.

Very nice....!

Daniel