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Sister Russia's Diary 1
It's me, Sister Russia! Today I got a new Boss! His name is Vladimir Lenin. He promised all my people "Peace! Bread! Land!". I admit he's kinda fruity, but we are out of WW1 right now, and things are getting slightly better, so I guess It's not that bad....He gave me this diary! YAY! Пока он не пытается дотронуться до меня, как Николай Второй я буду в порядке!
It's me, Sister Russia again! Sorry I haven't written in FOREVER! I've been busy! First my boss died leaving m
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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