Coffee and an Apple
There are people outside the place I went for coffee. The apple I bought on the way back is alright. I washed it and shook it in the air because we have no paper towels. There was a girl behind me that I noticed when buying the apple. She was pretty and had on a sriracha shirt with the rooster. I have a hot sauce shirt too but I am not wearing it. For money I put hot sauces into boxes that then go in larger boxes or envelopes that are then mailed around the world. I got back from work and set my things on the cool tile floor and my head into my hands and I let out a long breath. The coffee shop is a block away from my front door and it is a used book store too. I must have just missed something because there was a group of people my age loitering outside the shop. They were speaking English and French and Spanish and one of them hit me with his hand as I passed through their crowd. I ordered an iced latte which I am no longer embarrassed to do. The grocery store is two doors North-East of my front door and I almost never go to any other grocery stores and I say hello to the manager and he thinks my name is Frank due to a misunderstanding that happened a while ago and was never corrected. Frank is not a bad name. He could think my name was Chet. I think Chet is a bad name but I would not judge anyone for being named Chet. I would judge someone for naming their child Chet. I do not know why I am writing or what this is. It will probably end up in some compilation later in my life or it will never be seen by another soul. It feels good to write, for me. Even if I am just writing about a latte and an apple.