Don't Drink the Coffee
Matthew Ryan Fischer
“How old is that? It smells like something is burning.”
“It was here when I got here.”
“I need fuel. Do you need fuel?”
“I’m just trying to stay awake. You sound like you already have
too much energy.”
“A body in motion stays in motion.”
“You ever hear about that idea that if you drink some coffee then instantly
take a nap, when you wake up, the caffeine will be more effective? It’s like
the nap clears out some receptor in your brain or something, so the caffeine
can just take its place.”
“I don’t know about any of that. I just need a pick-me-up. A legal
pick-me-up.”
“It’s funny you differentiate your addictions like that. I’m not
recommending anything, but if you’re already so addicted and okay with that,
then why worry about another?”
“I feel like if I pour enough cream or milk into that, then I’ll
be able to drink it.”
“Avoiding the question.”
“No. I’m just in no mood to argue semantics and nuance with you. I
don’t need every conversation to turn into some draconian philosophic debate. I
just want a quick cup of coffee. Not even a good cup.”
“I don’t think you know how to use that word correctly.”
“I am not engaging in this. I’m going to try some of it.”
“Pick your poison.”
“I will.”
Something was wrong. The stale coffee was like a blackhole that
stole time and energy. It also encouraged a bit of nausea.
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