`Buti Pa Ang Latte, Gaya Ng Saging, May Puso



      So we were inside this café and I was looking at my latte, wondering if there were three hearts there or four or more when one of my companions suddenly asked, “Do you still have contacts with (she mentioned a married former friend)? How is he?"
       
      I don’t know, I thought, probably still fantasizing over a pretty single colleague of his who he thought was fair game (what an idiot!). But I just smirked and didn’t say anything and I looked back at my coffee, which was inviting and seemed delicious. I would allow no horrible thoughts to distract me from enjoying my coffee. Our form of relaxing after a grueling window-shopping (lol) at the mall was to have a cup of delicious coffee. Coffee’s known to alleviate depression (you’d be depressed after failing to buy the things you like) and protect the heart and liver, but drink too much of it and it will give you anxiety and insomnia.

      At home, I often drink my coffee black and without sugar. Why? To suffer, that is.

      People are temporary, coffee is forever. Hundreds of years from now, when this world is ruled by  zombies or robots or aliens, the few remaining post-apocalyptic humans will still sip cups of coffee while they brainstorm on how to continue surviving, which will just be futile, as humans deserve to  obliterated.

      Afterwards, the zombies or the robots or aliens will discover coffee.


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