Around 4-ish today, I found myself in our pantry, with a 3-in-1 Nescafe Coffee Mix in hand. I offered a few officemates some packs since I basically have like a mini-sari sari store containing all’em wonderful “just add hot water” caffeine super-ness.
No one though, wanted to drink their coffee at that certain hour. So, I found myself walking toward the pantry by myself, with my 3-in-1 buddy in tow.
Then I get to the pantry. I get a cup. My black Nescafe coffee cup. And a miracle of miracles brought me to a different world outside the realisms around me.
I was staring at my reliable black coffee cup as I got hot water from the dispenser. I imagined myself in the cup, like a dear, old sailor scrambling for my life while sailing inside a volcano about to erupt (I guess this was because of the hot water). A bit before filling the cup, I snap out of the dream. I move over to the counter top, and I begin to pour the contents of “Nes”, (the pet name of my 3-in-1 mix). I drift away again. I see myself as the one, or the two, or the three in the in-one of my Nes. It was a feeling of belongingness, funny thought, at work. I felt like all my officemates were some sort of coffee powder, sugar or cream in my Nes. I watched Nes slowly join the hot water. It was like me with my colleagues melting in one whirlpool to be one. I got scared. I was thinking if this meant that I would be like one of them. I can’t see myself being vacuumed into an enigmatic abyss.
I was then tempted to not mix my coffee as I wanted to differentiate one grain from the other, as I did not want the “whirlpool of work” take away our individuality and thus turn us into zombies abiding by all their bull. But as force of habit, I got that plastic fork and began stirring (yes, I often times use a plastic fork for some strange reason). I felt relieved. The hot water turned coffee-colored. The whirlpool became us. We did not turn into hot water. Goody.
