Tres Content

I'm lying on my back, curved and impacted against memory foam and soft pillow. The rain just started a sudden burst outside. I wonder if it's angry. Or sullen. Maybe a release of energy somewhere in the world? Maybe in China, a man is yelling at his wife just to see her smiling at his own mistake. Maybe there are two people somewhere-one just proposed and the other said yes. They both breathe again. Maybe in the Galapagos Islands, a mother turtle has just given birth to her last batch of eggs. Exhausted and happy, she pats sand over them and waddles back to the sea. Maybe a sailor somewhere is waving goodbye to a storm, glad to have lived through it.

Or maybe I'm just imagining things.

I'm lying on my back, after hours of serving people at the cafe and then more hours of homework. What relevance does any of this have to do with my life? I wonder. What does it have to do with my future? Then I suddenly see a flash of an image. Job interview. Important. Professional. "Do you know how to make a cup of coffee?" the interviewer asks me. It's a strange question, but, then again, it's supposed to be strange. It's supposed to test me.

"Yes, I do know how to make a cup of coffee. I know how to make a latte, and a capuccino and how to work an espresso machine."
"Good," the interviewer says, grinning. "I read over your resume and you know how to type, communicate effectively, write up reports, and perform basic computer functions. The only deal-breaker was if you know how to make a cup of coffee. Good coffee, that is," he jokes.
I nod and smile. I got the job.

The rain is sullen now, splattering down the gutters and sides of buildings in sloppy gobs. Maybe I should go to sleep. School's tomorrow.

I'm lying on my back, curving and impacted against memory foam and soft pillow, after hours of coffee and textbooks and articles and dreams. Dreams of a happier tomorrow. Let's make that happen. The happy tomorrow. But. Let's do it tomorrow. Right now, I'm just happy. Or as the French would say, "Tres content."

Good night, rain. Maybe I'll see you the next time I'm happy. And maybe next time, you won't be so sullen.