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:

“Hey hun, rent due the 29th!”

I let out a deep sigh, and text back.

“Thanks for letting me know Jamie” with the thumbs up emoji at the end for good measure. I peer out the window and think about whether I’d be struck by lightning or have to pay rent, when I’m startled by the barista who comes up behind me and sets down a ceramic mug.

“Your Matcha Green Tea Latte, sir”

I glance up and recognize that it’s the same girl who took my order. I match her warm smile, “I appreciate it”.

I look down at my cup. So maybe it’s the paw shaped foam art that makes it hard for me to resist the place. I shouldn’t be spending my last pennies here, but if there’s anything I’d want to waste my money on, it would be to sit here for hours on end just to pretend like I’m a part of a Hallmark movie set. Anyways, I like to see it as $4.50 in exchange for 5 hours of creative flow is worth it in the end. Getting my drink is always a signal to start working on whatever I need to do. I pull out my handy black notebook, one of my favorites out of the dozens I’ve collected mainly because I have all of my precious poems written in here. I just needed to brush up on the finishing pieces of my poetry collection, and then I can submit it to the publication. I check the time on my Casio watch- 9:15 pm, a little less than 3 hours to finalize my manuscript. I’d never admit it out loud, but my notebook is filled to the brim with countless poems that I hold dear to my heart, and they’re what keep me going at the end of the day. At least once or twice a week, I always take the time to come to Kittens Koffee and write in this little, black notebook. It’s my comfort hobby that I like to do at my comfort place. I start to get into my zone of creative flow, and before I know it, I’m finished an hour before the deadline. “You did it”, I say to myself in my head. I express a sigh of relief and pack my notebook and phone into my bag.

All that writing and I didn’t even give myself time to take a pee break! I rushed into the restroom and let out what had to be the longest stream of urine ever. I usually don’t drink that much water throughout the day, so the matcha latte had to be the culprit. I open the door of the restroom to head back to my desk when I get an overwhelming feeling that something is wrong. I take a look at my table, and I immediately notice that my bag is gone. The one time I didn't take my bag with me to the restroom, of course. I get a sinking feeling in my chest, and my mind starts to wander into all the things that might’ve happened. I feel myself start to get frantic. I look left and right, under every table, and on all the seats.

“Ok, chill out. Retrace your steps.”, I think to myself. Yet, there were no steps to think back to because I know I left my bag on my seat.

I couldn’t recall any other customers who had been in Kittens besides me in the past hour or so. Maybe someone saw my bag through the window and seized the opportunity to take it and run? I check the door and realize the locks are turned to the right, meaning the barista already closed the doors. How could I have missed that? Besides that, it was 30 minutes to closing… My chest starts to thump even more, and my mind starts racing as I begin to think of ways to crack open the window to escape. Just then, I feel a thump. And then I hear the sound of metal clattering to the floor. No other thoughts pass through my head before I fall to the floor, except a definite notion that the barista was the thief.

I wake up, and the moments following feel like a dream. In my haze, I look around and notice I’ve been taken to a storage closet of some sort.

“20k”, the barista says.

Before I could even muster up the energy to respond, she adds, “You’re not going anywhere or getting anything until you pay me in full”.

What was she even talking about? I just need.. My notebook!

“Why’d you take my bag?”

She stares me down with a look of revolt. I try processing the fact that this was the same barista who had handed me a kitten mug of matcha earlier today.

“Listen, you come into Kittens just about every week and write in that same book every single time. I know how much it’s worth to you, and you’re not getting any of it until I get 20k from you.”

This couldn't actually be happening. I don't know the logistics of theft hostage, but I knew I need to get the book back in my hands as soon as possible. My passion for life came from that book itself, and there wasn't any way I would be parting with it any time soon. On the other hand, I had nowhere near 20k in my bank account, and I'd be going into debt to save my belongings. It was my call. What would it be?