Coffee isn't so sweet anymore

Warning: violence, mental health, substance abuse

<<I hate coffe now, but she made me love it.

I'd wake up, smell the slighlty roasted air, slowly get up and come to the table just so you could pass me that heavy milk cup that you hinted with the black venom because you tough I liked it; and we'd smile at each other downing it.

I still smile when i sip it, and then i keep going with Time, altough his face isn't as beautiful as yours and so we both frown.

And so he leads me down the stairs and brings my heavy body to the car, while i drink some coffee; the traffic is as endless as always but at some point i see a distant light, my desk lamp, with a round of papers under it.

So I down another cup and finally start the race.

And so I compile one, then another... and another... and... i reach for the last one, but my hand gets me another coffee.

So Time leads me home, tough he has many hands to hold at this late hour, so i kinda loose myslef in front of the train tracks, but i see a little coffee machine, and go home happily with another cup.

Somehow i wake up again, so I roll down the stairs, drink a cup, sleep on the bus, hold some papers, down some coffee, time takes me back and i think of her while i sip my seventh one today... so I wake, stairs, coffee, bus, coffee, papers, time, back, coffee, bed, wake, coffee, coffee, mom, coffee, the sun... it looks so bright for no reason, so I down a few more cups than usual...

Outside the paperboy looked uglier than usual, so I hit his bumpy nose.

My hand didn't feel as heavy as always, so I smiled, while one of my theet was knocked out by his punch.

I fell back, closing my eyes, feeling peace at the tough of what was about to happen.. but my body brought itself back up and threw a kick, took in a blow, gave a jab, took a strike, gave a hit and he's silent... the sun isn't so blinding anymore.

It was too late to take the bus, and i really didn't want to drive, so i walked down to the park and saw some kids playing volley. Iused to do it too before i got too old, so i asked to join.

I was rusty, but muscle memory kicked in, with another few cups.

Then i found myself near a bridge's edge, some people screaming at me, inciting me.

So, to please the crowd, i did a backflip dive, i had never even done one on land.

I hit my back... it was pretty high so i went really deep, it was a calming dark down there, but some bastard pulled me up again and i was welcomed with a round of applause, altough my now unmovable wrist was purple.

I felt euphoric.

I downed another coffee and woke up in a driver seat, i couldn't hear the deafning screams near me, only see their mouths moving, so i kept going and, i think, i won the race?

I blinked and everything went dark... but then i blinked again and found myself in a tattoo shop, laying on my stomack, and with a stinging pain in my back. So i drunk another cup.

All of a sudden i was running, my legs were burning, but the screams of the guys chaising me kept me going while my arms were holding a weird heavy bag.

And then it was dark, and i felt a heavy weight upon me, making it difficult to breath. The tough of being buried alive wasn't so bad, but the smell was too gross, nothing like those roasted coffee beans, so i digged myself a way out. I wasn't in any tomb, just dumped inside some dumpster.

I (somehow) consciusly entered a bar to get a cup of my beloved, but it was too quiet, so with the little brain and strenght left in me i kicked a few chairs, threw some beers and shouted some words, all while trying to remain as hidden as possible, and it payed back. The fights that broke out were film like, it was just like being at the cinema, until someone brought me in and got me roughen up... but i escaped.

Anyways, to make it short, i robbed some stores; threw pies at a few office workers; ate and run; wrestled some big guys and lost (you can tell from my swollen eye); drunk some coffee; lost an eating competition; downed another cup... and much more.

And now, ladies and gentlemans, i'm here, on the (i think?) 3rd day of this mesmerizing adventure, on my (maybe?) 90th cup of coffee, with half the town praising me and the other half after my ass, on the 3rd floor of this beautiful apartment in front of this amazing lady.>>

Said the little boy to the old woman sitting silently in front of him.

She was wondering wether he really liked coffee for the comfort of his mother it left him with or beacuse it was the easiest way out.

They both heard a scream from outside, and so the old lady walked towards the window to see what it was.

Doing so she passed a little moka, now barely ever opened but obviusly heavly used in the past.

In front of the building she sees a crowd of people waiting.

She looks back at him, now laying on the sofa, his head slightly up, just like her grandson used to.

Knowing it's the end, she prepares him the best stage she can: covers him with a blanket, closes the blinds, turns the light off and sits next to him, holding his hand, while the stomps of the crowd grow closer.

His heart is beating so fast.

She cracks a smile, while a tear cuts her face.

And faster.

<<I never liked coffee, but my mom always did, and so did i>>

And his heart stopped.