1.6.5 She Got It Out Of The Car R.D.

She was running late, so she rushed inside, only to realize she had left her specialty sugared coffee in the car.  She needed it this morning, but upon entering the office she was immediately bombarded with tasks, questions, and phone calls.  So she put her purse in it's special hiding place (the third filing cabinet drawer), hung her keys on the random screw in the wall that had no other purpose, and settled into her chair.  She spun around to her desk (aka her stacks of papers, her un-read e-mails, the phone list, etc.)  The next time she looked at the clock it was damn near 11:30am, morning was almost over, but she had time to retrieve her coffee so she did.  It was cooled, but sugared coffee never tasted bad.  She swished the contents around by moving the cup in a circular motion with her hand.  The sweetness was welcome.  Not only would she be energized, but she could trick her body into not needing lunch for a few more hours.  She didn't have an eating disorder, she had a "lack of motivation to make lunch for work" disorder; so maybe saving the coffee was a good idea.  The mix of coffee, caramel, and chocolate was perfect and she forgot about the dollars she had handed across the barista that morning.  

She knew how overpriced her favorite coffee drink was, but on mornings like this, she couldn’t resist.  Besides she loved the feeling inside coffee shops.  Homey, warm, like you could easily fall into a good book, or into a conversation with a stranger, or fall in love.

She thought she had fallen in love when she was in a coffee shop once.  Back before life made her grow up a bit; when sneaking off to a coffee shop to meet someone was the highlight of her week (or her month).  On mornings like this, she couldn’t resist going into coffee shops to feel that way again.

1.1.12 Dream R.D.

I find it kind of frustrating how easily our dreams can change.  When I was a young kid in elementary school all I wanted was to be around animals.  I didn't care about the context.  My mom joked about me being a crazy cat lady/farm hand/vet.  Then later on the dream became to be a cop - any rank.  But eventually I dreamed of being detective.  The second highest rank in criminal justice.
"Why not captain?"
"Why be captain when you can be a detective?"
Then some told me how and why that was a terrible fit - and besides my mother hated it.  So I deterred myself to the paperwork:  court recorder, judge's secretary, paralegal.  Then the dream became just to be involved in criminal law.  All the excitement but none of the risk. Then I met a boy who had a child and suddenly all I wanted was to be a mom - which I had never factored into any of the previous options.  Being the best step-parent I could be became my driving force.  I even looked into the requirements to be a professional nanny.  Which ended up not falling into "dream job" category, even though I think I'd do well at it.  Now, though, I don't know what my dream is.  I don't stay up late at night thinking about things like that anymore.  I'm twenty years old and all I dream about is making due.  Don't step on any toes, and just keep quiet, and don't get overly ambitious.  I don't know how to fix it.  Even my dream of going to New York has lost it's gleam.  Unless it's handed to me.  I don't want to work towards something just to have the opportunity taken away from me.  I am so scared of losing my balance, or my grip, that I don't even really dream anymore - and that frightens me, it really, truly does.