second thoughts:

Motivation

Sarah Jean Alexander

The coffee was burnt, but I was in a hurry.

It would do.

I almost spilled some on my way to the sugar counter,

trying to navigate my way around a man who was

too busy typing on his i-Pad to notice the steady flow

of people rushing around him on their lunch breaks.

A homeless woman walked into the café.

In a loud, resounding yell, she asked for five dollars,

or a twenty would do.

No one stopped to look her way,

but my hands shook as I poured my milk.

"You're pathetic—you're a sorry excuse for a human,"

she spat before she walked back onto the street.

The man with the i-Pad looked up at me.

He had a bad haircut, and his suit didn’t fit.

"She was talking to you, you know."

I sighed and capped my cup.

"I know."