As it darkens I see more of myself, except where the street lights flash. Outside this window is the perfect urban street corner; leaves rustle, people smoke in congenial groups, traffic pulses like blood through the intersection.
Last year I said I would not come back to this coffee shop when the barista stared at me dumbly for ordering a grande coffee. Can you see, her blank face says, I do not understand what you say. Is this Starbucks I don’t think so because I don’t even know what Starbucks means. I don’t even know what it means.
A 16oz I say.
Huh? I say, just a 16oz coffee.
Is that 16 ounces? I don’t know, because I just want coffee! 16 ounces of it!
I forgot about my promise until I was already sitting at the window. All I want is to find safe haven where I can be left alone to do work. There's always a reason though, isn't there. I still broke a promise.
Through the window, this perfect urban street corner and I have reached a compromised opacity. My work is done, and I’m just lingering because my work is never done.