Atomic Bean by Marisa Glynn

I’ve swallowed the red eyes of espresso, and glitzed away my sugar high of frozen yogurt. This is one of those moments where we go outside of our comfort zones, stretch through our skin, because sometimes skin is only a fence separating us from what we really wish to become. But right now, this is comfortable.

 

I’m sitting in the Atomic Bean, with Jess. She’s drinking a coke with a straw. There is a holiday collection of pineapples on the counter. This is our second table of the day because the batteries of our laptops are growing weary. Laptops can’t drink caffeine, I guess they are just forbidden to a healthy life style.  This seat is colder than the last one because I haven’t had the time to build it into my memory yet. But this is one I would like to hold on to.

 

These yellow walls are reverberating with pop punk from 2007. I was fourteen in 2007, and I wonder what real life moments I had back then. I remember walking four miles to school and back, listening to The Weepies on repeat. I still do this. I carry them with me, wrap them around my fingers so holding hands with lonely won’t hurt so much. The Weepies is a two-member indie folk band, Deb Talan and Steve Tannen. They met in Cambridge. They fell in love in this city that grows around me. I think of you like that.  I think how your fingers are warmer than music notes, but both of these things have saved my life at one point or another.

 

When I was fourteen, I didn’t think I’d make it this far. And when I was eighteen, I didn’t think I’d make it this far, and last week I kept seeing my roommate’s face if she found me cold. Like the seat I am sitting on, but it is growing warmer now. This is what I am trying to remember. I need to remember that you can drink coke with a straw. It’s going to taste better that way. I almost didn’t make it here. But right now, I feel like I am outside of my own skin because this is what I really wish to become.

 

I wonder how long it will take for this seat to grow cold again after I leave. I need to remember this moment, because I am afraid it won’t remember me back.

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