Another day has offered me less than the wanted amount, but it is not over yet. I arrive to my apartment with a book in hand and a thousand disheveled thoughts in head. I pace the living space for a few moments, a quick walk through the kitchen then a stroll to the bathroom. I swing by the bedroom then a dart back to the living room. Nothing accomplished, no physical action taking in any of these places, just a flowing body controlled by a wondering mind. I finally regain control of my thoughts after touring my apartment for a quarter of an hour. I need something to put me in a mind set for thought and work, for pleasure and passion, and for energy and steam. I think of running out to get liquor or even a bottle of champagne. Then I am struck as a bullet to chest, a brush to canvas, a hand to lover. A cup of coffee would send me steaming at this hour, but that would not be the complete desired state. The water is boiling and an idea forms. A beer must be had in hand with the coffee. The two together will be the vassal that leads me to fruition. The bitter hot black of one, the staunch cool caramel of the other will vent my thoughts. The contrast savors only the best. Few other couples have such an influence on their third wheel. I throw the book on the desk and ready to act on my epiphany.