Sarah Duncan

Matcha Money

Today is the best kind of day. The rain met with the wind is creating a harsh pelting sound as it methodically thumps against the windows of Kittens Koffee, my go to coffee shop. There’s no other place that can compare to the flow that Kittens gets me into, especially when it comes to writing my poetry. Something about the low murmurs, warm lighting, and smell of ground coffee beans really helps put my mind at ease, and I always get right to work. Today feels like a special day- no- I know it’s a special day, because 11:59 pm marks the deadline for submitting my poetry work to The Poetry Piece Magazine. Ever since I graduated college two years ago, I’ve had the typical run of the mill story that most aspiring writers experience- getting an hourly wage job while picking up small writing offers on the side… until you land a pitch that hopefully gets you running on the ground towards success. I’m tired of worrying about whether I’ll be able to pay the rent on time and living small. I’m ready to live big, and I’d do anything to get away from what feels like the tsunami of stress I’m faced with daily. Speaking of which, my phone lights up with a message from my landlord: