From a sound state of sleep I awaken. I cannot help but feel that something is out of place... Something is a miss, but I cannot put my finger on it. It is as if the answer to this mystery is on the tip of my tongue , yet ever so elusive.
I lay my head to rest yet again, but alas, sleepless in a musing state of contemplation I lay, trying to put together the pieces of what is leaving me feeling puzzled.
Image by Nathan Mullet
Midnight comes as soon as it goes, still with no light shed upon this feeling I feel in my chest. Dawn begins to break. With a full day of activity ahead of me, I thought to myself, the best way to begin this day is with the compliment of a cup Brazilian single origen coffee.
This coffee appealed to my coffee preference specifically - fruity berry notes with a sweet acidity and a nutty roasted aftertaste. Truly a journey of flavor that I will always cherish. The special part about these beans is that I was part of a team in Brazil that cultivated, studied & observed these beans over the course of 4 years.
Image by Luke Porter
I set my gooseneck kettle to boil & prepare my haribo V60 pour over. In an anxious moment of anticipation, I rush over to the special cool, air tight cabinet where the Brazilian coffee beans were stored, under lock and key.
It is as if my eyes deceive me. Is this a dream? Have I really woken from my sleep? This is a nightmare. The beans were missing.
Frantically wrecking my brain in attempts to retrace my steps... I ponder what could've happened...
At the time I was living with 2 companions. Rocky is an understatement to describe the relationship between us, but ultimately we always pitched together to pay rent and living expense.
My suspicions were peaked, with my arm hairs standing upright... Immediately I knew that this was no mere coincidence.
Both Rob & Taylor had a mutual dislike me & for coffee. They regarded coffee as bitter , but truthfully they were the bitter ones. I knew t
I needed to divise a ploy to get my prized coffee beans back. Recently I noticed a different type of impurity about their intentions... A maniacal need to be the cause of dissatisfaction.
Newton once said that every action has an equal and opposite reaction... And thus, a plan was conjured from the darkest part of my mind...
Rob was a passionate vintage camera collector... It would be a shame if his cameras were to dissapear, one by one, each adding to his agony and frustration.
Taylor was a skillful knitter with embroidery ability and so much more... But what is a craftsman without their tools?
Like a thief in the night , I put this plan into action... Days past by and tension thickened. Rob & Taylor began to suspect each other for the mysterious dissapearances of their possession.
Just as Lady Macbeth told her husband, one must appear to be the flower, but in reality must be the serpant below.
On one evening an intense argument broke out between the two... They both stormed off in separate directions. Generally I respect people spaces , but I knew, this was my opportunity to take back what was mine. Speedily , I popped into their room, resting high atop their book shelf, what do I find ?
MY COFFEE.
Kleptomania is where I draw the line. The next day I packed my bags and beans and left in search of a place to call home.
The end.
(Chosen method of torture : Manipulation with a taste of ones own medicine.
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Thank you for reading.
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