Cold Coffee, Hot Dreams (and Tired Thoughts)

I sat down at the corner café, ready to battle my notebook again, but my coffee betrayed me, turning from fresh espresso to tepid sadness faster than I could open my pen.

Last night’s dreams lingered, absurd: A spiral staircase leading nowhere, and a goldfish gently asking me for career advice.

I offered some tips— (“Swim against the current,” I said, sounding wiser than a half-asleep human has any right to be.)

Today, caffeine is failing at its only job: Coffee hits like tap water, and tap water, well, it feels more like a tranquilizer dart.

Maybe my goldfish client has it easier after all.

Wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget… but I still might.