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Dear Adult Me Dear Adult Me,
I don't know where you are at in life right now, perhaps you are where I would want you to be, perhaps you're not. Do you remember what you wanted when you were teenager? You must remember the time you got on Pokey and ran and ran and ran. One of the best rides you've ever had, but I'm sure there's more to come. At that moment you knew what you wanted in life, you wanted to be able to do that every day. You wanted to do that with Isabella, after all, you're of a teenager now, right? Nothing can stop you!
And nothing will stop you. Nothing will stop you from achieving what you want in life, not now, not ever. Friends and family call this that "spoiled" aspect of you, while we insist it's simply "determination". That's it. Pure determination. The will to do something and not stop until you get there. So, think over where you are right now. Are there horses in your backyard? Is Isabella standing restlessly as you heave a saddle below her withers and fight with h
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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