“I see the assassins have failed.”
This will never happen to me. I am too uninteresting and unimportant. I work a boring job, with tediously long, unforgiving hours while wearing an outfit that’s slightly better than cardboard – both in feel and looks. I read in my spare time or write comical shorts. I mean, they’re not that funny. I just think that they are. Sometimes I even venture out with friends, but always end up the designated driver. I’ve been nicknamed ‘mother’ or ‘mother-bird’, which should make me feel all warm and tingly inside. It should be an honor to be the DD, right? It’s not. It makes me feel old and unwanted, which I have found out on multiple occasions is exactly what my friends think.
That’s when I realized that it’s just because I’m safe. I don’t know how to be anything else. I don’t get much feedback on how to be a cooler person – other than the constant jabs about how I’m not being cool. The coolest part of my life? My other family members. My friends. Even my dogs are cooler than me and one of them is a pug. Yeah…
There will never be a moment in history when I know or hold something so precious that I am on someone else’s hit list. It’s utterly impossible.
Because at 6 am, like clockwork, I go to the same coffee shop at the corner of my street, drink a latte, and then ride the bus to work. Five hours into a full day shift, my boss sends me home, citing that they need to cut costs. In reality, he just wants to avoid paying overtime and benefits. And then I spend the rest of the day lounging between the TV and the backyard, my pups finding ways to keep me entertained.
Today is no different.
I walk into my favorite coffee shop (not like a Starbucks, god no). More like one of those retro or old-style coffee shops where you can get your coffee in one of those cool wide-mouth mugs. The hole in the wall places that you can never find on google maps unless you’re a local. It’s got a serene atmosphere. There are couples and young adults littered among the booths. I approach the counter and smile because I recognize the barista.
She smiles back at me as we share a moment. She hands me my coffee mug and points to the booth by the window. She’s been waiting for me to come in. She never speaks to me, but I can tell that we have a thing going on. She always saves me the same seat by the windowsill, overlooking a city waking up.
I see that the daily news is on the table and the usual flower vase has been moved from the window. I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t know why she does it.
I approach the booth, careful not to spill my latte. It has one of those strange illustrations on the top, but I’m not sure what it is. I don’t really care. I’m really just here for the foamy goodness.
A man in all black slides past me. We brush shoulders, but all I can think about is not spilling my latte. I paid an entire five bucks for this. My parents always wondered where my extra cash ended up. It’s this. My entire life of poor decisions boiled down to these liquid beans and cow milk in my cup.
The man leans in for the moment we’re in contact.
“I see the assassins have failed.”
I freeze. If that was directed to me, they must have been the worst assassins ever. I do the same routine thing every day or sometimes I change it up and sit downstairs to watch TV instead of in my room. Good lord, how long had they been trying to get me?
And I should be terrified. I should have dropped the mug and run out of the café without so much as looking back. I should scream or call for help.
But I don’t. I continue to my seat and place the mug down, glad to have accomplished my mission. The mug is safe and the design on top is still intact. I pull out my phone to take a picture. Because that’s what I do every day.
My mind is still reeling from the thought that I have successfully evaded assassins. I’m a little cool. Although no one will ever know, because no one will ever believe me. I change some of the options, slap a fun filter on the photo, and save it to my profile.
I tag it with a simple #today:)
I reach for the mug and glance out the window. The streets are a bit dreary and it looks like it’s going to rain. Again. I feel like I’m in one of those movies, where I’ve outrun everything and it’s near the end, but I have nowhere to go. I’ve nothing else to do than just keep on living. I could kill myself and make everyone else lose hope for not completing the job they were paid for. I wonder how much I’m worth or if it was one of those pro bono jobs. The thought doesn’t sit well with me.
I’d get no satisfaction out of finishing the assassins’ job on my own.
Especially since I have no idea why I’m being targeted.
I take a deep breath, but it turns out more like an exasperated sigh. I slurp up the foam off the top. It’s the best part of the latte. Especially since I don’t like coffee anyway. I just like the taste of milk and sugar. And this? This latte doesn’t have nearly enough sugar.
I slide out of my booth and head for the counter. The barista throws me a small smile again, but this time it’s tight. I’m amused and curious, but I don’t ask. She won’t talk to me anyway. I grab three packets of sugar and a stirring rod. I rethink my decision and grab a fourth. I don’t feel judged, just surprised that I never put on any weight.
The sound of shattering glass hits my ears.
I turn to see my cup in pieces, coffee strewn everywhere. There’s a waterfall of milk pouring off the table where I would have been sitting. The foam design has distorted into some horror of white bubbles. I should be angry, terrified, running. But all I can think of is defeat.
I turn back and the barista isn’t smiling anymore. She seems to be in shock, as many of the customers are headed for the front door. I’m not sure why people do that. The bullet comes from outside, yet everyone runs outside. It seems like a stupid idea in retrospect.
But nobody thinks when fear is involved.
Now I’m angry.
I approach the barista, the sugar packets still in my hand. I crunch them, and it just makes me angrier. I can feel the grains digging under my nails. I take a deep breath to calm down and then stare her straight in the eye.
“Free refills?”
ns 172.70.100.147da2
and then Add to home screen.