Bill winced under his eyelids, tossing in bed hoping the act itself could stifle his thought, but it persisted without shame, like a dog defecating in the middle of the road, daring him to press the pedal.
He tried to squeeze tears out of his eyes, tried to will his body to admit that he was the wronged, the unfortunate, that he deserved at least some pity for living his life.
Bill knew that Tina was talking about him this morning, that someone can’t tell the difference between a robusta bean and an arabica, and that person was calling shots in a meeting he had no business being at.
And the only reason he got the promotion was because poor George was busy handling this person’s mess and the company was too occupied to notice that imposter.
The other barista was oblivious to the gossip but perked up in shock that someone could mistake an arabica for anything else.
Why, even a baby can tell the difference, she said at the cashier seemingly to Tina and to Bill like a secret that everyone was in except Bill, before she smiled and handed him his morning coffee.
That was when Tina turned around and laughed, where she noticed Bill in his expensive looking suit and adjusting the leather strap of his work bag, looking so out-of-place like a boy dressed in men’s clothes, and Bill felt the pity in her eyes, felt the slightest shook of her pretty head as she returned to her spreadsheets behind the counter.
He remembered searching the difference of every coffee bean the moment he sat down in his cubicle, but his mind rather drown in the brown liquid of his own poison, slowly diluting his clarity.
His own memories penetrating his mind like the coffee aroma crawling into his skin, moments of him stealing glaces at Tina, him panicking while the meeting room went silent, him being brushed aside from discussions, him noticing others making a big gesture to turn around and look at the wall clock, instead of finding the time on their laptops that's right in front of them.
Bill circled through these capsules, searching for the pain points that would finally jab him to tears of renitence.
None of that worked, and he started to laugh.
Under the cover of his sheets, alone in his apartment, he laughed at the ambition that catapulted him from the most famous college straight to the director’s office of the biggest coffee company in the world; he laughed at the courage that opened doors at every conference and networking event throwing names of strangers like they’re close cousins; he laughed at the vanity of believing he was every girl’s dream, a successful knight in shiny armour, that no one could resist his charm, not even his ex-girlfriend Tina.
He laughed until he cried. He cried so hard that exhaustion took over his body, numbness begin to descend into nightmares, and stillness crept over his body.