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Talk to no sleep.

I don't know, Laurel. My mom has been acting weird lately.

Says someone is following her.

The blonde woman standing close to me waiting for her coffee, says, to her red-headed friend.

Who's following her? The redhead asks. That's the strange part. The blonde replies and leans in close.

She says it's her second husband, the guy after my dad. The one she fought with all the time?

Yes, that one. But that's not the weird part. She also says it's her older sister and the

asshole neighbor from down her street. Uh-oh. Sounds like early onset dementia. I know, I know.

That's why I told her to go to the doctor. What'd she say? She hung up on me. Well, that's not good. Grand latte to go for Herman. The barista shouts. I sigh and walk to the counter. It's Hermes, I say. The barista doesn't care. She barely gives me a cursory smile as she shouts,

Double Machiatto, extra foam, two shots of almond to go for Raymond.

A man in his suit shoves past me before I can get out of the way. He grabs his drink,

sneers at me, then hurries through the morning crowd on his way to whatever important crap he has to do today.

My blood boils, and I want to chase the fucker down and give him a piece of my mind,

but I have a deadline and need to get to work.

I find a table, and as I take my seat, ready to pull my laptop out of my carrier bag,

a man wearing the green apron that all the coffee shop employees

wear comes up to me and says, you ordered your drink to go, sir. The tables are for in-store

orders. Uh, yeah, I'm not going to be long. That's why I ordered it to go. I say and hold up my

latte. I'm a slow drinker, Just going to fire off a couple of emails.

...