Slinging coffee in DE has its perks.
 
For the "Shithole" of a town ( not my words but the rantings of a customer) the tips  never cease to roll in and are typically quite generous. If I bothered to ever file taxes Uncle Sam would be impressed.  
 
Gossip flows as freely as the coffee. I don't know if people believe that the coffee pot in my hand means I've been struck as deaf and mute as a certain buxom dope dealer or if the stop seeing me once their cup is filled. Either way I've heard all sorts of fun things. Wanna know who's engaged, who's husband took a few swings at her the night before? Wanna know who's got pot for sale, who hired Jaison to do what? Wanna know who's sleeping with who behind someone else's back?  For the right price.. the I just might tell... and what I doesn't see the tapes checked nightly do.
 
I'm still puzzling over something the junkie said before she spewed blood like a volcano all over the shop yesterday. Who's Kaydren? or was it Kayden? Kaydrena?  And why does she look like me? Is she even real?  Or was it just drug and sickness induced craziness. I'll have to see if I can't visit her in the hospital and make more sense of it tomorrow.