She tweeted that it was the worst day of her life.
They didn’t have her favourite hazelnut soy milk for her latte, and everything was ruined.
She singlehandedly spawned the phrase “first world problems,” And people started saying, “Check your privilege” all the damned time.
She was aware of her privilege, of course, and thought it would be funny to exaggerate the tragedy of a morning coffee gone slightly wrong.
It was meant to be ironic, but some people don’t see the humour in angry rants about insignificant events in daily life.
They are focused only on important matters. For example, they worry about what God people send their prayers, what kind of sex people are enjoying, and whether people have acceptable clothing to match their very real genitals.
We mustn’t be distracted by the insignificance of coffee.
He called himself a cowboy poet, and he performed wearing an old straw hat. It had been awhile since he rode a horse, but he never really mentioned that. He knew the smell of wet hay, of course, but it’d been years since he scraped dung off his boots. It’s true he missed being out in the fresh air, but he didn’t miss seeing all the redneck brutes. He still remembered seeing the cow’s fear when some were taken off to auction, and his memory still brought a silent tear at the thought of a mother cow’s grief-induced exhaustion.
When pressed, he could still carry on a cowboy’s prattle, but it was undeniably true he was all hat and no cattle.
She was explaining about how each moment had an infinite number of possibilities and how each possibility existed in an alternate universe where each subsequent moment created an infinite number of following possibilities and how each of these possibilities existed in even more parallel universes where every possible story line for every possible moment was played out with both cosmic justice and celestial irony.
But he was distracted by the movement of her lips. He was watching the flutter of her eyelashes and the dilation of her pupils. He was enthralled, almost thrilled, but appeared bored. She said, “You’re not even listening,” and started to gather her things.
He was disappointed, yes, but it wasn’t the first time a casual social interaction had gone awry. All the same, he wondered what might have happened if he’d only listened a bit more carefully or at least explained that he’d been distracted by her lips.
Dominic’s parents took him to church and warned him to sit still. Of course he had a fidgeting fit as all boys his age will. He sat for eternity in a state of seemingly suspended frustration. He tried against his wont to focus on redemption and abomination, but he couldn’t get his mind off Susie’s note, better reading than the Bible. But it slipped from his pocket when he took his seat and fell on the other side of Nigel.