Wednesday September 21, 2016 5:25am Starbucks Coffee

This morning walked to Starbucks dreaming about the stories I would love to tell, while my stomach ached familiarly. I've had two ulcers before and a couple days ago I realized that I may have a third so I spent a minor amount of my mile long trek through oddly silent city streets past the four crickets within a mile of my apartment thinking about what alternatives to coffee I might have. 

Later, I sat drinking the Earl Grey Tea that I hastily ordered when they asked me to be more specific about what kind of tea. I'd said I'll have a Grande Black Tea which gave us a mutual panic because that wasn't enough information. The woman started listing off the types of black tea and I picked the first one I'd heard of before then regretted the choice because the second option was the one I actually like.

I sat for like ten minutes without opening my notebook then pulled the inner cup of tea out hoping that shedding the second cup would help it cool faster. My first sip was a full fifteen minutes after ordering. It burned my tongue as a woman approached in my periph.

While I thought about why anyone would ever drink scolding hot tea the woman came into focus. She was mixed with like skin, hair in a pony tail, and she was ranting about being forty two. She didn't look forty two, but dark skin seems to age more gracefully than the white faces I've seen age. 

I assume she was homeless because of three things. She was walking with more than one bag. She was slightly dirty. And, she took her rants around the corner and sat on the ledge. If she weren't homeless, she'd take her rants, sit at a table, and write them into a journal like me.

She sat over there raging as people walked in to Starbucks. Eventually, I heard some loud bitches rip through the air. I looked over and heard her yell, "Yeah, you better walk away, bitch! You don't know who you're messing with."

There was a young woman at the door and she replied, "Uh, you don't know... uh... me," she trailed off her fightin words and entered the store perplexed.

I watched as the homeless woman walked to the door and stood there gesturing to come out and fight. "I needs me some scraps. I love to scrap, bitch!" I heard her say with intentionally bad grammar. 

She stood there gesturing to fight, mouthing it's go time while I spectated in disbelief. After a moment I realized that clearly she was determined to wait for the woman to exit Starbucks and she was going to fight her so I said, "it's way to early to start a fight."

She replied, "she started it."

I didn't believe that but I didn't want to conflict with her directly. I said, "well, it doesn't matter who started it. You don't have to finish it. It's like five thirty in the morning. It's way too early for a fight."

She didn't break eye contact looking through the door. 

"She'd just scared," she said.

I was like, "yeah, who expects to fight at five in the morning?" She continued to stare so I high lighted the absurdity, "she just wanted some coffee."

Eventually she left, I motioned which way she walked, talked to the barista for a moment, and then sat there thinking I should post this story. There is no moral to the story. This just happened.