She's practically out of breath as she scrambles out into the cool dampness of the night.
"It's an emergency!" she lets out. And I know exactly what she's in need of.
"...I can give you some coffee..."
"Yea, please. It's above the microwave."
Steph. She roasts her own beans in a popcorn popper. Thus, she carried her load downstairs at the stroke of midnight so she would have coffee for the morning. I admire her dedication, and I know the feeling, but I'm glad I was there to save her the lack of sleep in which she almost had to endure.
"How much does a hipster weigh?
An instigram. Here, take my picture!
Boom! Am I me or am I my mom!?
...I don't know."