It’s dawned on me, as I sit in Starbucks early in the morning, my eyes dart up every time someone walks through the door wondering if they have a gun or explosives hidden in their laptop bag or knapsack.
I’ve always had senses like a cat, nothing unusual growing up in an alcoholic home, but now they’re sharpened even more. To say I’m annoyed at myself is putting it mildly, but after all that’s happened in the past month…Orlando, Nice, Dallas…you can almost see it, like a slow train coming. And what better place to shoot-em up, but the coffee capital of the world.
After expressing this to a friend, he said, “Just don’t go anymore…buy a coffee pot, its cheaper anyway.” Boy, was that not the response I was looking for.
Now Camille, who when I told this to, heating up like a Bunsen burner, said…
“Oh get the fuck off of it Susannah. Who the hell is coming into Starbucks at 5 in the morning with you, a bitchy barista and the window washer to mow you all down?
Did I feel better after that.
Stop being an asshole is exactly what I wanted, not to mention, needed to hear.