Dragged.

1: Bean Bar

I woke up, and my head pounded. Boy did I ever wish it was a hangover, because then at least I could have something to rave about from the night before. But no, it was just another stressful morning, product of working until 3am and only getting four hours of sleep before my thirty-something neighbor started pulsing the blender to make his meal replacing; and my sleep replacing protein shake before he went on his awful morning jog.

I wanted to say that I could push past it, and get on with my day like a regular individual, but even I, Miss Perfectly Ironed Lady Suit had to take my morning's happy little pill. I took a shower and decided that today was going to be one of those do nothing but watch cartoons in my mid-twenties kind of days. Until I realized something was missing. There was not a drop of caffeine to be found in that wasteland I called my apartment. So I did what I always did. I hit the Bean Bar. A little place I liked to call heaven, or maybe hell. It was with that place that all my addictions started, and would end.

+++

I scooted in the doors a little past 8:30 in my Oscar the Grouch Walmart pajama pants and my It's a boy t-shirt, curtesy of when my sister through a party to let my brother in law know what the sex of their baby was going to be. Who knows why anyone keeps stuff like that.

I asked the barista for my day off treat, a vanilla cappuccino with whip cream and crunchy caramel bits on top. It was so sweet, but so good. 200 calories, probably 25 grams of sugar from that artificial vanilla pump alone, and fat fat fat, from that heavy whipping cream. At least that was real. I paid in quarters because I had already given the lady smoking a cigarette my toonies, and loonies for her son of which I send my regards, because he had serious lung cancer. You think that would encourage her to let the ol' chimney rest, but nope she was always piping away. The barista smiled, which was odd because I always got a puff under their breath if I ever paid with change. He had a gorgeous smile, but didn't look the least bit familiar to me. I smiled back and said,

"Say, are you new here?" as I cocked my head.

"Yes," he smirked, looking down to count the change.

"Yeah, because I have never seen you around, but so far you are already a lot friendly than the rest of the Bettys here. They all sort of turn their noses up at me."

"Well, that's awful, a pretty girl like you deserves what she came for." He smiled again, so genuine that it made me feel like all other smiles I had ever received were fake.

I motioned to take the change from him, and he kind of just let his hand float while he grinned, so that I had to reach to take it. I was sure that was against some unwritten code, because I had never had that happen before, but I didn't mind. In all honestly, I sort of liked it. I curled my fingers in his palm to grab my coins, and he closed his hand gently around mine.

"I know this isn't really allowed," he swallowed. "But I wanted to just touch you, to make sure you were real" he smiled again with those pearly whites. I laughed and collected my hand back.

"All I did was recognize a job well done, I'm no saint!" I puckered.

"Well, that's good enough for me," he said grabbing me my drink made by one of the Bettys behind him. He reached to give it to me, and suddenly pulled it back, grabbing a black marker off the espresso machine.

Saint, he wrote in beautiful script.