Bad Coffee

Aaron wasn’t fat and he wasn’t thin. Whether he looked fat or thin was entirely dependent on what he chose to wear that day. Today he looked fat but he didn’t care. He’d been up all night drinking with his best friend Mike who he’d known since high school. Mike was balding but had had the good sense to shave it a couple of years back as soon as he noticed.

Both men were thirty five years of age and were proud to say—they said it often while drinking—that the best things in life were still ahead of them. That they were free. They weren’t tied down by anything that could stifle their goals. They were completely unhindered. The world was their oyster, as people used to say, but which now no one says.

The two men got out of the car and trudged through the snow (that ought to have been plowed by now) towards the diner.

“Shit coffee’s okay in places like this, don’t you think?” said Aaron.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” said Mike.

“Well,” said Aaron, “if they serve shit coffee at a good coffee shop, that’s not okay, obviously. But this is a shit shop, right? Shit coffee goes well for some reason with shit food, I think . . . That’s all i’m saying”

Mike sniffed. “I think you’re full of shit, Aaron” he said as he signaled the waitress.

“Aaron. Mike.” Said the waitress, “How you boys doing?”

“Living the dream” they said in unison.

Mike gave Aaron a hateful look as Aaron asked for coffee.