Incomplete Separation of States

04/12/2013

8:43am

You’re in your local café, you say hello to the barista, make a little small talk but it’s hard to hear over the loud music.

You can see a few of the other regulars, they’re drinking large ones; you know it’s not there first.

You take a quick glance around at the newcomers, you’ve got your routine, but patience is key.

Some guy comes up to you and asks you for a cigarette, he reeks of coffee. You can tell he’s been drinking for a few hours. You don’t have one to give him.

You take a seat in your favourite corner, some girls by the counter doing espressos, one of them can’t handle their drink and legs it towards the bathroom. The remaining ones chase the shot with some unnecessarily sweet, girly coffee. You’re not even sure they’re eighteen.

You get a call but you know not to answer, instead, you go to where you know the caller will be. The exchange is brief, not formal; this man is not your friend, he does business. You pick up the two small packages. One for now, one for later.

The coffee has made you over-zealous, so you take one immediately.

You feel yours eyes widening. Any thought of work in the next few hours leaves your mind.

You return and the barista serves you another coffee.

On the way back to your seat, your favourite song comes on.

It tugs you from inside to the dance floor.

The music escalates as your heart begins to pulse through your entire body in time with the beat.

You dance like nobody is there, reaching and kicking left and forwards until the lights you see are simultaneously in front and behind your eyelids.

You’re not sure how space exists around you, but it does.

You don’t even drink coffee.

 

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