Bring your empty coffee cups, your weary minds, your bloated eyelids. Across the counter, hand us your ware, the tear of your day, and your tired burdens. Give us money for it and we can do anything for you. I look up and see you walk through the door, see you block the sun for a moment, and watch as you carry your legs and arms and core across the tiled floor to my register. You use your hands to hold yourself up at the counter and you stare at the menu. You tell me you don't even know what you want, and that is fine because I do not mind waiting. Eventually you say you just want a coffee. You just want a black coffee and no room. Just black, okay? You are so tired. I tell you how expensive our coffee can be and you breathe heavily and you give me your credit card. Let's just charge it to credit. I swipe it, you wait. Then I pour your coffee. I watch the dark liquid splash around the cup until it nears the rim and I cap it with a lid and I hand it to you and you thank me. We exchange pleasantries of, "Good luck at your job tonight" or, "You've made it through the day!" and then you leave.

I have the power to caffeinate the masses.