coffee

The moment I open my eyes, it begins. I need coffee. As I remove myself from the sheets, the room spins. One step closer to coffee. I bang my shin on the coffee table next to the couch. So close, but not coffee. I form a string of expletives, but don’t verbalize an ouch. I just want coffee. As the kitchen comes into view, my heart drops. Did I buy coffee? I reach for the big red can on the countertop. I’m out of coffee. As fast as my tired limbs can take me, I’m in the car. 15 minutes from coffee. It is an absolute travesty that anyone should travel this far to get some coffee. I’m usually a respectable driver, but today I’m Jason Bourne. I’d kill for coffee. I drift into the nearest drive-thru, see a line, honk my horn. Can’t wait for coffee. I whip into reverse and am headed back down the street. Gas station coffee. A chime and a half-hearted hello. A smell that’s sickly sweet. Dispensing coffee. That first sip is like the lights are turned on in my head. All day coffee. Before I know it, I’m turning lights off and getting back into bed. To dream of coffee.