Matcha

He was going to choose coffee. But this matcha drink intrigued him. Made him buy it on a lark. Monday coffee? Monday Matcha sounds better! He wanted to share matcha with his coworkers. But then they would hate him. Glaring at him as if his clothes were melting away. And also his hair is dripping with some goo. They’ve always hated him. He keeps the matcha a secret. He hands everyone their coffee drinks. The lattes, the doubles, even the triples. He takes a sip of this green drink. The taste is odd. Like drinking footprints. He takes another sip. The taste is like some person handed him this green drink. Except it doesn't taste green, or gray, or even orange. Or floral, or bright, or happy. He had been drinking coffee since college. Terrible times. Do people like matcha? Do people hate matcha? They sure hate him. Yet, somehow the rest of the week was… Like matcha. You can’t spit it out. You can’t undo it. Everyone hates you. Matcha Monday… The coffeeshop asked what he wanted. And he really didn’t know.