I might never really get used to the taste of coffee. I mean, I drink it for the caffeine and the caffeine for the drive I need for staying awake on the job.

- - -

Monday leaped up on the windowsill and gazed out the window at the toy traffic below. Traffic I was soon to face as soon as I finished my coffee.

I had just brewed a cup with my pour over, the steam crawling up the corners of my ceiling.

I breathed in the coffee and exhaled stress. My notebook with the A6 paper lay upon the shoebox by the door, with my keys in a jumble on top of it.

I raised my eyes to the window again. The reds and whites of the car lights below flickered as rain pelted the asphalt, washing away everyone who walked along the sidewalks, the dust upon the cars, the heavy feelings of emotions that I knew nothing of.

I wished it could wash away my everything: my entire self.

So that I could be at one with the water again.

A tiny side note: I used to be a fish.