I’ve developed this new habit where I make a cup of coffee, take one sip and then let it sit on my desk until until I forget about. Then later, I get a sudden urge to have some more coffee, only to realize that there is still a full cup on my desk but it’s all cold and manky — obviously I cannot drink it. I have to make another. So, I make another cup of coffee and repeat the same process over and over again.
Maybe I’m just not that into coffee anymore? Maybe I’m more into the idea of having coffee but not so much into actually having it? Maybe I’m in love and addicted to the thought of coffee but not with the coffee itself? Maybe I should let go of the coffee and move on to another beverage that I actually love, not just one that I think I love? Maybe I’m not even talking about coffee…
Maybe I’m only using coffee as a euphemism for a certain four letter word. Am I talking about dick? Perhaps. But I could also be talking about love. Or is it poop that’s making me so bemused? No, I’m not that dirty. Maybe it’s none of these things, or maybe it’s all of them? Maybe it’s someone and not something? I’ll leave it up to you to wonder about what I’m going on about. When you lay in bed tonight, you will be wide awake with insomnia, wondering about my coffee. You’re welcome.
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