We’d been friends with benefits for almost a year when the benefits started petering out. That was my stated reason for leaving, but the truth of the matter is that I’d been looking for an excuse, because there’d never been, not even at the very beginning when the good looks and the witty rapartee seemed important, any chemistry between us. Always a friction, always a coefficient of drag, a membrane of superficiality, like a pastel condom, making the relationship stylishly but most assuredly unproductive. No clicky, no washy, you know? And then at the end of it finding my comfortable chair gone — without warning! — a Bauhaus workbench or whatever the hell sitting in its place. That was the last straw. I walked.
Whatever my reasons for coming or going, though, it’s good be shed of Starbucks. It’s good to be back at the Coffee Underground.