one substance ariel loved more than anything else on the planet was coffee. he called it love, anyway, but more likely he was addicted to the caffeine and only pretending to like the taste -- always black, sometimes sugar if he felt especially sweet. sally’s was the best place in town, he thought, even if it wasn’t anywhere close to his favorite spot from back home. he’d plopped himself into one of the seats nearest to the counter, watching the barista with seemingly tired eyes.

“ya’ pot’s overflowin’,” he drawled, slowly and without the urgency one might possess when a pot of coffee somehow had, indeed, managed to spill over the edge of the glass container.