Ashlandsblog

Soft sunrays breached the curtains of Mrs. Aritzia. Specks of light on her powdery comforter, and when she opened her blue e-

Woah, wait. No. She wakes up way too late for that. The sun was already out, and she woke up.

She had her dog fetch her coffee. Dressed like a butler, the dog sets the breakfast tray down on her bed and resumes being a dog after he’s left the room. After she’s done with coffee number one, she goes into her phone and deletes the alarms she missed. All 14 of them. Headed to work, exactly late. Few moments setting things down, and now it’s time for coffee. Her first one of the day before the one at home. Pavement and floor amassing as she takes a step—she could walk on clouds.

And she’s here. She’s going to try something different today.

She doesn’t. She never does. Which is to say, how poetic and philosophical—she’ll try something different today, she’ll engage a part of herself that she usually doesn’t. But she actually doesn’t. The latte makes itself. The barista’s head is a coffee pitcher, and he’s pouring himself down. When she leaves, the coffee shop fades out. Her desire for change fades out. Till it rises again when she’s back.

And my god, she’s back. Two hours later for her FIRST coffee. But this time she took the alleyways to another coffee shop, so it’s the first one of the day.

And when she gets home to the front door that’s a decoupage of coffee cups made to look like a door, she walks into her butler-dog holding her first cup of coffee for the day.