Ursa Informa

Posted: February 9, 2015 in Uncategorized

The leftover twelfth-inch of coffee at the bottom of the mug began to harden, forming a sloped ring on the inner rim, a bumper, a buffer by which things would pour more smoothly the next time. But instead it was all washed out, scrubbed off, dried, hung loosely to wait, and then used again in the same manner. In the secretary pool, in the office of the attorney, anywhere where the march of progress has been halted enough to allow workers to use their own mugs next to the dingy metal sink, rather than supplying them with nothing but styrofoam containers and paper cups from the latest overnight java sensation just trying to make a few quick dollars before losing out in the end. Because they always do. But because coffee is still a requirement, someone else opens up. And then they get the money. And the rest of the world scratches their heads and tries to figure out how a coffee shack goes out of business when most people wouldn’t even be at work without one.


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