Lonely Caffeinated
I hated coffee. I went twenty-seven years without it and found the taste disgusting. And then I took a job, and needed it to function. Like really needing it. I couldn’t even look at my computer screen or type basic words on a keyboard without being caffeinated.
I used to go to this coffee shop everyday and get an espresso. They put it in these tiny paper cups, which I saved. A year passed, and I constructed this giant paper cup castle on my living room table. (I put it on my IG story, and the barista still mentions it to this day.) I took it down because women would freak out when they saw it, thinking I was a closet insane person who builds architecture out of garbage.
My mom sent me a fancy Nespresso machine over pandemic so I could make my own coffee and save me a mortgage payment.
My first homemade espresso tasted fine, but something wasn’t right. I realized that I’m not going to the coffee shop for the coffee. I’m going so the barista can say hi to me. I’m going so I can ask the lady with the poodle, standing in front of me, “What’s your dog’s name?” I’m going to see someone do a dumb TikTok dance at their table, and I can share a look of disgust with someone.
Today I was at the coffee shop and wondered how many other people are here for the same reasons. Probably just me.