10/14/10: Way to shame me into updating again by commenting, people who comment! (Seriously, though, hi, welcome, and pull up one of the splintery old orange crates that we use for seating 'round these parts seein' as we can't afford no fancy chairs.)

The rules from
here still apply.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

What Goes Around

Ben smiled briefly at the counter girl as she handed the coffee to him, but her attention had already turned to the next customer. Well, that's all right, he thought to himself, they are awfully busy this morning. It seemed like she had plenty of time to smile at the next guy as he ordered his fancy frappu-cappu-whatever, but what of it?

He grabbed a couple napkins and a coffee stirrer, then paused in the act of reaching for the sugar tray. He usually took his joe black with plenty of sugar... quite the sweet tooth had old Ben, as he would freely admit... but maybe he ought to give the sugar a miss this time. Or at least cut down on it a little. After a moment, though, he went ahead and dumped in his usual four packets, stirring thoroughly before putting the lid back on his coffee. He'd start cutting down tomorrow, maybe.

His usual morning routine was to buy a paper at the newsstand next door, grab his coffee here, and then sit at a table by the coffeehouse window, drinking and reading, before heading on to work. He had his paper and his coffee, but abruptly he turned and headed outside anyway. He knew everyone in the room couldn't really be giving him funny looks, and certainly nobody but him knew that he'd had to put a new hole in his damn belt just to be able to wear it today. Still. The pretty people could have his usual seat by the window this morning. Hell, maybe they deserved it more anyway.

Ben sipped at his coffee as he walked slowly back to his car. Maybe he'd quit the coffeehouse runs entirely, put that forty-five minutes every morning to better use. Start taking walks around the neighborhood. Take up gardening. Something like that. Anything to combat this nagging feeling that he was, in some way, not good enough; that he would have to atone in some obscure way in order to be worthy of a position in society. The feeling that he refused to admit, and that he pushed away even now, taking a long pull at his coffee and forcing his mind to more pleasant matters.

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