Cappuccino.

Alabaster froth with a light dusting of sienna cinnamon sways and bubbles in my cup to the beat of every keystroke. I’ve added enough time to my parking meter to keep me here until forever (or at least morning), which is what I’d like to do–forget about all of my responsibilities and wander city streets as a nobody, buzzing from all of the caffeine I’ve ingested to secure seats at a series of coffee shops with soft jazz music playing and people doing all the things they might do at a cafe — working, connecting, philosophizing, thinking.

A succint sip scalds my tongue and warms my lungs. Bitter. I accidentally make eye contact with someone telling a dramatic story about a police chase. I quickly look down. Back into my own world. Where I belong. Watching. Waiting. What have you.

I wonder what it’s like to be connected. Not that most people here are. I lock eye contact with another woman, who is sitting at one of those awkward large tables designed for strangers to silently sit at and do work. We both look down and never look at each other again.

I’m a double espresso topped with foam and hot milk. Or maybe I’m just the foam. Just the froth.

Frothy.

I need more substance. Sadness has a stronghold on me this week. But it’s tinged with secret hope. With flickers of the past jolting my mind like the lightning bugs rhythmically electrifying the heavy late July night air. In the desolate darkness, there is still latent light. I taste it on my tongue. I swallow it in my shadow as my body pulses with the need to believe there must be something greater than redundant redundancy.

Motherhood. There’s that. That’s new. I enjoy it. I love my son. He’s becoming a person. I teach him things. He teaches me how to be more than myself.

Another sip. I’m a horrible coffee drinker. It’s usually way too hot when I take my first sip and cold by the second. I should be banned from ordering hot beverages.

I should drive home. I should do more work. I should drink this cappuccino.

Instead, I hone my ears into individual conversations. I try to know people I won’t know before I never know them again.

I’m just sitting here seeking scalding stimulation.

I’m just sitting here sipping life lukewarm.