Caffeine makes the world go round; America especially. Stop by any coffee shop on a busy weekday morning and you're bound to see a dozen, half-asleep people waiting in life for coffee; no matter the quality. It's the only drink that is going to help the working-class zombies get through the awful workday that awaits them without stabbing someone in the face. 

    At one particular coffee shop, I have met a woman. I don't know much about her, except her name, Lisa. Lisa and I have been running into each other over coffee for months. At this point, I look forward to seeing this mysterious woman, that I barely know, every day before work. I think that the universe puts people in your path for a reason. I haven't figured out what the reasoning behind Lisa and I using the same coffee shop every day is yet, but I know it's not the coffee. The sludge that they offer to their customers is mediocre on its best day and a waste of my money and time on its worst day. I keep coming back for the companionship though; the little tidbits of conversation and flirtatious glances back and forth. Over the months, Lisa and I haven't said more than a handful of words to each other at a time. She gives me this devilish look when she speaks to me though, like she wants to have me for breakfast; it sets my insides on fire. 

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