What happened last night? He asks himself, grabbing on to the coffee mug as he watches through the window, sea gulls and pigeons that litter the square take off disturbed by a passing throng of Asian tourists. He welcomes the hot wave of coffee steam that floated from his cup and drifted into his nose, misting up his glasses a little, that enters his senses and caresses his aching head.
In the flurry of the moment, he hadn't thought. Drunk as though by cheap wine and lured by a bait that he winced to think of now, last night had happened so unknowingly. Like going through a dream that one thinks will not in any way affect his real life.
But now as he sits and wakes, thanks to hot coffee, he realises he can't forget it.
What sort of curse will last night's foolishness bring? What sort of ill fortune will it bear? He can almost feel the weight of darkness pregnant and ready to give birth. In the back of his consciousness.
Starbuck's Long Black isn't helping either. He stares at the writing that barista's have the habit of doing, Have a awesome day! (and a smiley).
He swears under his breath. Swearing makes him feel better. Not in a good way, but because it reminds him that he doesn't care about it. Damn it all. I don't care. Fuck off. Maybe if he says that long enough and convincing enough his remorse will go away. Maybe he will even stop caring about it. After all he is only fighting against himself.