everything is starting to feel a little more normal for him. he likes routine, he likes having set rules to guide him. it helps him to make sense of this bullshit called life. even if it's only four hours a day of work, as it gets more familiar it'll be more and more like a home. so far he's actually started to talk and try to have legit conversations, not just prove he's a fucking hard worker.
serving coffee to the boss was his greatest challenge, by some miracle the espresso turned out perfect for once. he thinks he understands the coffee. he can connect with it, make it do the things he wants. they connect.
the tears that roll down his cheeks tell him he's still alive. everything is starting to just go well for him again. he wishes he could say they are happy tears, but that would make sense. he doesn't know where they come from, why they're here, just that he's tired of everything and just wants to make it through the shit until he's home or somewhere even closer to him.
some days he wonders why he even does it anymore. the sheer amount of sleeplessness shouldve been enough to make him collapse. he keeps getting up and pasting a perminant smile upon his face. maybe there's something in coffee that can be like caffiene through scent. it's the only thing keeping him up and alive.
<3 <3
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