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[sub__rosa]

Again, today I talked to the man who had his legs ripped out from under him by a drunk driver. This is the man who tips me a dollar, wants his english toffee extra hot and extra sweet. His stories are tip enough; like how he brought a girl to orgasm while rubbing her stump, sneaking the sock she couldn't get on, up to the hilt. The patches all over

Comments

[cbertsch]

This is a nice piece of writing, in addition to introducing your readers to someone who sounds very interesting. Thanks!

[sub__rosa]

And thank you too-

When I know he is going to stay for a long time I make myself a drink too. In a way it's to supplement these rare (few and far between) times with this man; add a disconnective buzzing feeling.

Where with a lot of customers they are "just customers" to me (which seems possible), he is something else entirely. I know the way he likes things, I'm concerned when Danarae (the other young barista) doesn't make his previous visit's drink to perfection. This sensitivity, coupled with the act of consumptive offering, a strange feeling of injection, makes his visits confusingly layered.

Especially when he pulls out his large knife and shows me how, despite his shakes, he can handle something that requires a certain delicateness. These are the times where oblivion (though I feel like you are referencing a specific debate that I am not aware of) feels like just the right word for how it feels in that little coffee trailer of mine.

[plasticspit]

what a lovely character sketch.
it's funny how easily one can fall in love with the strangest folks.