#caffe neros

Latte ‘You talk about your life like it’s already over,’ a girl says. ‘When is the last time you were completely happy?’ The guy she’s with says ‘I’m happy now.’ ‘No, you’re not. You’re barely scraping by.’ This room is dim and comfortable. It’s a Caffé Nero. Upstairs. I want to be at an airline terminal. I think about other places a lot. People tell me I daydream. I’m self-involved. I’m drinking a hazelnut latte. ‘I like scraping by,’ the guy says. ‘Misery makes me happy.’ ‘Stop romanticising depression,’ the girl says. A different girl sits alone. She’s reading a book called Nothing Feels Good. I’ve heard of it. I read some parts on the Internet, but I never bought the book. I want the girl reading Nothing Feels Good to talk about romanticising depression. She’d probably say it was big in the nineties. Nineteen ninety seven would have been a better year to be in my early twenties than two thousand and eleven. I haven’t read enough books. I’ve failed as a reader of books. I want to read Nothing Feels Good. I’ll go over and snatch it off the girl reading it. Our eyes will meet and we’ll go to an airline terminal. We’ll agree to meet again in a week and fly to different places. I’ll wait for her and she won’t show up but I’ll get to keep her copy of Nothing Feels Good. She’ll have scribbled notes in the margins.