You used to have dreams, hopes, a charitable word for those who were trying as hard as you to become what you thought was inevitable. You were going to be a superhero, a mammoth of achievement and innovation and sexual legend. You were going to be celebrated by wealthy people holding glasses of white wine. Your idols were going to find you at cocktail parties and punch you in the face for being so arrogant that you’d prove their talent fraudulent before you even turned 30. You were on your way.
“But then I got trapped in a well for twelve years,” you sob into your coffee.
“We know!” the barista shouts.
“Twelve years!” you shout back.
“It’s a long time!” the other barista shouts. “You wasted your youth on darkness! We’ve heard all about it! Jesus!”
“I was meant to do so much!” you scream.
You down your coffee and go to the counter and grab both baristas by their shoulders.
“Don’t waste what time you’ve got,” you demand of them. “If you don’t fall down a well, with no one coming to rescue you because the property’s been abandoned and anyone who does hear you pleading for help just assumes the well is haunted, you have no excuse.”
They yank their shoulders away from you.
“Got it,” they both say in unison. “Refill?”
You nod yes, a few new tears fall on their counter. They charge you 75 cents.
“You charge for refills now?” you ask.
“New policy,” one of the baristas says.
You cry even harder. You hand them your quarters and you go back to your table and you drink your coffee refill and you lament.
Happy Staring Into Your Coffee, Wondering What You’ve Become Day!
