The Evergreen Enigma

Part Five: Coffee

                                                                                    Part Five: Coffee

      When Dexter awoke and leaned up to check the digital clock on his desk, he saw that it was 9:34; he had gotten a little more than four hours of sleep. It was a Monday morning, and he was on his fall break for school. In fact, that was the first official day; he wouldn't have to go back for another two weeks, giving him plenty of time to gather his thoughts and think of a plan for Evergreen before he'd have to face going to school again. Dexter sat up in bed, the coldness of the previous night, or rather early morning, had been sucked out of the room by the heater. He rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms, trying to make his body let go of exhaustion; he had never been one to get more than six or seven hours of sleep each night, but four was a new record for him. Under most circumstances, it would've been difficult to function with such little energy; however, his adrenaline was pumping and he could sleep no longer. He threw the blanket off of his body, freeing his legs from the knotted trap that the sheets had formed around his legs. He sat up straight, his feet on the dark, planked wooden floors that were colder than he anticipated. After working the sleep from his body and releasing a few yawns, he stood up, heading for the door. He walked passed his parent's bedroom, through the living room, and into the kitchen for breakfast. When he made it into the tile-floored room, the first place he went was to the coffee maker. Opening the wooden cabinet and taking out a solid, tan mug, he placed it under the single-cup brewer. Picking a cup from the rack of coffee varieties, he chose one of the few caffeinated cartridges that stood in his home. His mother rarely drank coffee, and when she did, it was flavored vanilla or mocha, with a small bit of caffeine. His father was quite the opposite, drinking a cup each morning, black and decaffeinated, "for the taste," as he always insisted. Dexter was a mixture between the two- not crazy about the frilly flavorings, like his father, but lustful for the caffeine boost, as his mother was on occasion. As he maneuvered the mechanisms of the machine and pressed the button, indicating a medium sized cup, he stepped back to retrieve a bowl from a different cabinet. Setting it on the marble countertop as the smell of automatic, freshly brewed coffee filled his atmosphere, he grabbed a box of cereal from the pantry. Hearing the coffee maker produce a foaming, drizzling sound, indicating that it was finished, he poured his cereal and placed the box where it went before switching gears to prepare his beverage. He poured two packages of the all-natural sugar his mother insisted on purchasing into the steaming mug and carried it over to where his bowl sat. As he stepped towards the refrigerator for the milk, Dexter noticed a bright yellow notecard attached to the door with his mother's handwriting. "We're off to work- be back by dinner."

     The phrase "be back by dinner," was relative; the same promise was made every day, school or no school, and it seemed that every day his parents were never home, and Dexter was left to cook and eat dinner for himself. He didn't always mind; it was nice to have some alone time after dealing with the people at his school all day. It wasn't that his parents were intentionally leaving him alone, either; they both worked hard to make money, and often stayed overtime for extra pay. It would be nice to spend time with them though. Dexter wasn't like most teenagers who despised his parents; instead, he despised most of the people who were his own age, due to their immaturity and small mindedness. Setting aside the notecard, he opened the refrigerator and got out the gallon sized carton of milk. He carried it over to his cooling coffee and dry cereal, and filled his bowl with cold milk. Dexter was debating in his mind whether he would do the same with his beverage; he always found himself at a forked road when it came to milk in his coffee. He hated waiting for it to cool down, as he was extremely impatient and milk did the act quickly, but he also hated taking away from the strength of the caffeine. Dexter decided that he would wait for it to cool and go without the milk, for he would need all the caffeine he could get into his system. He placed the milk carefully back into the refrigerator, feeling the cold air send chills up his limbs in the brief few seconds that the door was open. He walked back to where his meal was sitting, and grabbed a silver-plated spoon out of the wooden drawer. He then took his cup and bowl in hand and set them down on the old, black, table made of distressed wood, and took a seat in a cushioned chair that matched. The table was positioned next to a large window, letting both light and cool air into the house. Dexter sat and ate his breakfast in silence, his mind wandering amongst the wilderness of thoughts that resided in his head in that moment; however, he couldn't make himself think. His environment, a closed space, wouldn't allow his mind to roam freely enough. He needed to get away, find somewhere to think. The chaos in his mind was overwhelming, sending Dexter into a whirl; this was something he had never experienced. Dexter had always been a thoughtful boy, one who examined every situation with extreme caution and intellect; this, however, was far out of his comfort zone. Dexter was faced with the possibility of saving an entire race of people, and that was both immensely terrifying and intoxicatingly prideful.

     Based on the insanity that wrapped around his mind, Dexter made a decision. When he finished his breakfast, he would find somewhere to think. He continued to eat his cereal and sip his coffee, feeling the caffeine make its way into his veins, giving him an almost immediate burst of energy. Within a few minutes, Dexter had finished his meal and was ready to commence. He stiffly walked over to the sink, rinsing his utensils and placing them in the deep basin. He made his way to his bedroom, warm and comfortable. Opening his closet, Dexter picked out a pair of jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, topping it with a sweatshirt. He walked over to his dresser and picked a pair of socks out of the messy, top drawer. He then slipped on his sneakers and laced them tightly. Grabbing his backpack and tossing his phone, a bottle of water, and his key inside, he headed for the back door.

     Dexter knew exactly where he wanted to go.