Sometimes coffee is better than it is on other days. Today’s coffee is really good. I don’t know what it is. The brand is nothing special. Cafe Bustelo. One of the cheapest brands you can buy. But it’s working and it tastes good.

Musette is on her way home. She survived her work shift. Someone from her work is giving her a ride. It’s a girl. A woman. Not a boy. Not a man. Maybe they’ll make out in the car all the same. Maybe my dream was foresightful. Maybe she’s going to die on the road. Maybe we will die on the subway on the way to meet her brother. At least we’ll be together when it happens. I wonder what ISIS’ thoughts on Thanksgiving are. They probably don’t like it very much. It’s an American holiday. It might not be the best time for them to attack, according to their standards. If they were going to do it, one would think they would have done it during the parade. Either that or at a football game. A subway attack would seem a little pointless, being that most people are already at their destinations, most of those destinations being out of state. All the same, how do you predict what a terrorist is going to do? You can’t live your life around what you think they might do. If you do that, then every day is an attack. That’s how I feel right now, battling Schroedinger’s bomb and bikini top. Don’t let it touch your reality. Keep the death away. Do your best to influence the die.  


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