The bell dings as I swing the door open. Rich, earthy coffee and sugar, people laughing and smiling. The line is long. I already know what I want, but the woman in front of me can’t decide and stands, open-mouthed, in front of the barista.
“What’s your favourite?” She finally manages.
The barista smiles. A young woman, bouncy red curls and a smile. She’s always here. I think she might be the café’s best barista, or maybe they just like her looks.
“Iced coffee, ma’am, but with a little drizzle of caramel. It’s my signature treat.”
“Oh, that sounds fowl. I’ll just have a black coffee.”
She paid and shuffled to the corner, nose in the air. I’m next.
“Hey, Jonathan!” She smiles. I smile. “Coffee, two sugars?”
“As always.” A few people in line chuckle. No one seems to mind waiting behind me.
She gestures to a man standing behind her, and he grabs a cup. I walk to the corner, away from the woman from before. My coffee shouldn’t take long, and I’m in no hurry. I still have an hour until my shift.
My order is first, and no one makes a fuss. A few people wish me a good day and I nod in response. Outside is cold, brisk, which would be bearable if there had been even a single ray of sunlight shining. I make my way to the construction site, my coffee in one hand, the other in my coat pocket. There’s clouds in the distance, rolling in. I shiver. Reluctantly, I raise the coffee to my lips and take a swig. It was always too sweet.

“You’re late, Jonathan.” My boss growled the moment I walked through the gates.
“Actually, I’m right on time. My shift doesn’t start until twelve thirty, and it’s quarter til.”
“Just get on a machine and stop talking.”
“Yes, Tim.”
My boss walks towards his office, probably headed to down another beer can. The machines all stand waiting, and I mount the one nearest. Keys in the ignition. It roars to life. For the next few hours, I pick up the massive beams and carry them from one end of the site to the other, where another man on a machine picks those beams up and moves them to another part of the site, and so on and so forth. It’s meaningless work, but Tim wants it done. I move methodically, without much thought. Everything is so easy. I’m apparently the backbone of the crew. Without me, the beams couldn’t get from Point A to Point B, and the next guy would have to take them from Point A to Point C, which would upset the balance. There’s no use fighting it.
When the sky gets too dark to see, the fluorescent lights surrounding the site turn on. My shift is over. Tim watches me punch out, his eyes following me until I disappear into the crowd on the sidewalk. I know that now he’s going to check to make sure I punched out at exactly nine, and I always do.
People pass by quickly. A few wave, a few smile, and a few even say hello. They’re gone before I can respond, so I keep a blank smile on my face. One smile for each of them. It makes them feel noticed.
My apartment building is just ahead. High rise, the best money can buy. People stand outside of the doors like paparazzi, watching the revolving doors spin and spin on their axles. I slip through and enter the brightly lit lobby. It’s like a hotel. There’s always someone waiting by the elevator, and I had hoped there wouldn’t be any interaction.
“It’s broken, Jonathan. Mechanic promised to stop by tomorrow.”
“That’s alright...” I glance down at her name tag.
“Lue Ann.”
“Yes. That’s alright, Lue Ann.” She smiles as I head to the stairs.
I march up the twelve flights of stairs that stand between me and my bed. I don’t stop moving until I reach the space directly in front of my door. There’s a letter for me, written in a familiar handwriting. I tear it down and walk into my room.
“It’s always the same,” I murmur to myself as I undress. “‘Hope you’re doing well, son. I know you’re doing excellent like you should be. Remember, the little things matter.” I throw my trousers against the wall and curse. The letter will go on my dresser, unopened.

There are only two good things about my unit; the massive, hotel-esque bed that’s fit for a king, and the floor to ceiling windows on the far side of the bedroom. I’ve got a great view. At night, all of the buildings light up and it looks like the stars are reflected onto the ground. Across from me is another, slightly less sophisticated high-rise apartment. I walk towards the edge of the windows so my toes touch the cool glass and glance down. Twelve stories, one hundred and ten feet below me, there’s nothing but solid concrete. My breath fogs on the glass, and for the millionth time, I think about jumping. The window itself opens wide enough for me to easily fit through, and all it would take is one extra step. Everything would be over. No more Tim. No more menial job. No more letters on my door every week.
“Not today...” I sighed, turning on my heel. I crawl into bed and pull the white sheets up to my chin. I count the specks on the ceiling until my eyes grew heavy.

Back to the coffee shop the next day. The line is even longer. The woman from before is sitting at a table, staring at her cup of coffee until I walk past.
“Young man!” She yells. “Can you tell me what’s wrong with my coffee? It tastes sour.”
The line keeps growing longer and time keeps ticking away. I can’t afford to be late, but I need caffeine to stay focused. The woman is staring at me like.
“Of course, ma’am. Let me try a sip.” I pick up her cup and touched it to my lips. Black. Just the right amount of bitterness. “There’s nothing wrong with you coffee.”
“Then why does it taste so... oh, I don’t know. Wrong!”
“It’s just black coffee, ma’am.”
“Oh! Oh, my, you’re right. I forgot to put sugar in it. Silly me.” She scurries over to the sugar and cream station. I race over to the line and glance at the clock. There’s no time, it’s already twelve o’clock. It takes fifteen minutes to walk to the construction site on a good day, so taking in account the chance of obstacles and slow walkers, that gives me just enough time to get there early. I start towards the door.
“No coffee today, Jonathan?” Autumn calls. I turn around. The light shines across her face and makes her hair look like fire.
“Not today, I have to get to work early.”
“Alrighty then. Good luck!”
“Thank you.”
The streets are even more clogged than normal. I still keep the smile on my face because people still feel the need to say hello to me. I nod at a few of the more persistent people, who weave through the crowd just to get closer to me. As I walk past the library, a cluster of young college girls giggle and peak at me from behind their bangs. I give them a bigger, faker smile. They all blush.
“Jonathan...” Tim hisses as I walk in.
“I’m still on time, Tim.”
“Yes, but yesterday you got here at eleven forty five, and now it’s twelve fifteen. You were almost late. You gotta be better than that, Jonathan.”
“i know, Tim.”
“Get on a machine.” He barks.
I climb onto my machine and turn the ignition on. I angle the machine, the crane, so it’s directly above the first metal beam. I clamp onto it, and swing it up. Too fast. The beam shakes and creaks, rotating wildly. I can hear Tim yelling from his office.
“Be careful, you idiot! What’s wrong with you?”
“My apologies, Tim. Thought it was lighter.”
“Every beam weighs the damn same!”
“I know, sir.”
I take extra special care in moving each beam, but everything feels off. I’m either moving too fast or too slow. I can’t find my rhythm. The beams spin too quickly each time I pick them up.
The stadium lights flash on, but I keep moving. I have to make up for the lost time, and there’s still beams in my section. I keep working for a while longer, until there’s only one beam left. I move the machine towards it and reach. Clamp on. Raise it high and slow. The machine quakes and shivers. There’s a loud clunking noise coming from inside the hood, and the claw gives way. The beam comes crashing down, landing on a part of the infrastructure. All I can hear is the sound of metal on metal. Everything collapses.
“Jonathan! What... what the hell, Jonathan!” Tim comes barrelling through the wreckage. His face is burning red, like Autumn’s hair.
“Tim, I-I...”
“Shut it, Jonathan. I knew there was something off about you. Do you know how long this is going to take to rebuild?” He gestures towards the collapsed frame. What we had been working on for months was now a pile of rubble. “One simple job, Jonathan, that’s all you had. I thought you were supposed to be some sort of genius.” He can’t control his rage.”Get off of my site! Get off it!”
“But Tim-”
“Shut the hell up! Don’t come back tomorrow, Jonathan! Don’t come back ever, you’re done! Done!”
I step off the machine, moving too slow. I slip into the crowd. People wave and smile, but I don’t smile back.
“Hey, Jonathan!”
“Why the long face, Jonathan?”
“What’s up, Jonathan!”
I push past them, head down, holding back tears. People never shut up, but thankfully they never stop walking, either.

It had started to rain.

The stairs felt twice as high. I reach my door after what feels like an eternity. Every movement feels empty. Keys in. Twist. Keys out. Open.
Walk in the room. Flip the lightswitch. Shoes off.
Go to the dresser. Pants off. Shirt off. I’m standing in my boxers and socks, but I don’t care.
Walk past the bed. Keep going. Walk towards the window. Stop.
I could do it now. There’s nothing else for me to do. I lost my job. It shouldn’t be long before word spreads, and my reputation will be tarnished. No one will hire me, and I wouldn’t be able to afford living here anymore. Or anywhere. I’m going to lose everything.
“I’m supposed to be perfect,” I told my reflection. “That’s what everyone thinks. ‘Oh, Jonathan, you’re so smart and handsome’.” I unlatched the window and let it swing open. The air was damp and cold. I knew I should be getting wet, but I couldn’t feel it.
I step onto the ledge. It’s silent. No cars, no people. It’s like everyone ran and hid as soon as I opened the window.
Twelve stories, one hundred and ten feet of open air and rain and then...
I could feel the pull of gravity tugging at my toes. I glance up, blinking away drops of rain. The clouds churned like water. I feel like I’m underwater. Like I’m drowning.
“One step, Jonathan,” I spoke softly, like someone was going to hear me. “Just do it, dammit. Just jump.” My voice cracks. Tears mix with the rain. “Do it, you coward!”
I couldn’t do it. It felt too easy. It felt wrong, but it felt right. I don’t know.

People say, in near death experiences, their life flashes before their eyes. If they survive that near death experience, they have a huge revelation that changes their life forever. Maybe they realised the problem was all caused by their unstable marriage, or their current lifestyle. They walk away from nearly dying feeling more alive then they did before, and they go on to live a better life. So, now, I laid face up on my bed, counting the specks on the ceiling, waiting for that revelation.
I had almost died. I was one step away from killing myself, but it didn’t feel like it. It wasn’t like in the movies, where there’s a huge orchestral build up, the lights dim, and the audience holds their breath in anticipation. I was on that ledge for less than two minutes. All I have to show for it are cold, wet socks.
I didn’t feel better, but I didn’t feel worse either. I felt numb. I didn’t want to think about what was next because, frankly, there was no next for me. My entire life had been built upon the opinions other people had of me, and by tomorrow everyone will know I was fired. Everyone will know I ruined the construction site. Their opinions of me will turn sour. Every employer in Hollygrove will know me as the guy who ruined everything. I won’t have a job. I won’t have money. I won’t have a home.
“Shut up,” I hiss. I roll over, leaving a wet shadow behind me.

On the east side of town, there’s a lake. Not a big lake, not a small lake, just a lake. There’s an old pier jutting out about a fourth of the way through, some buoys, and a couple of residential docks. I don’t come here, normally, but today I had nothing better to do. There’s an unnamed trail that loops around the lake, and I walked around it several times. Nothing seemed to register. Not the puddles on the concrete. Not the sagging branches above me. Every person that passed me seemed to know exactly what I was hiding. Word must have already begun to spread because when I walked past a few people, they began to whisper and shot me glances. I kept my head low.
In a clearing up ahead, I decide to stop. There’s a bench overlooking the water. I sit, ignoring the dampness seeping into my trousers. Everything grew quiet, like even the animals knew what I did wrong and were embarrassed to be near me.
How long I sat there, I did not know, but soon someone walked up behind me, red bouncy curls and a smile.
“Hey, Jonathan! Fancy seeing you here!” Autumn chuckles. She holds onto the handlebars of a vintage looking pastel blue bike and walks alongside it. “Mind if I take a seat?”
“Not at all,” I said, moving over slightly. She drops the bike in the grass and hops next to me. The wet seat doesn’t seem to bother her either, despite the fact that she was wearing the whitest jeans I’ve ever seen. They were so bright, and against the dreary setting, they seemed to glow.
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“The sky. The lake. Everything. I love how the world gets after a storm. It’s like everything just got cleaned and it’s hanging out to dry. And then, tomorrow, it’s going to be like fresh laundry.” She leaned back and sighed, her curls falling in front of her freckled face.
“I guess so,” I mumble.
“You guess? Nah, you have to feel it. Look really close, and feel it. Everything feels clean.” She glances over to me and her eyes softened. “You okay?”
“Not really.” Something about her made me want to tell her everything, about the crash and standing on the ledge and wanting to jump. “I just got fired. I don’t know what else to do.”
“Piper’s is hiring.”
“The place you work at?”
“Yeah, a ton of people have already applied, but my boss is a complete a-hole and only wants attractive people working there. Says it’s good for our image.”
“Hmph.”
“You could probably get in. You are very handsome, especially in Hollygrove terms.” She doesn’t sound like she’s flirting with me, just like she’s paying me a genuine compliment. I have always been told that I’m attractive. By past girlfriends. Past boyfriends. My family. Everyone. It’s kind of lost it’s meaning by now, but the way she says it gives the word new life.
“Thank you. But once they find out what happened at work, how I got fired, no one would hire me.”
“Why?” She chirps, folding her legs underneath her and propping her chin in her hands.
“I was pretty well known as being perfect. Once they find out I messed up... I won’t be perfect.”
Autumn laughs. She actually laughs. “Who cares about being perfect?”
“Everyone! All my mother ever tells me is to work to achieve perfection, and once I reach it, never lose it, because perfection is what gets you somewhere. Imperfect people, the college dropouts and the jobless, they’ll  go no where, but me, perfect little me, is going to go somewhere.” I have never told anyone this, but I was too far gone. The words just came tumbling out of my mouth. “I got the best grades in high school. Full ride scholarship to the best college in the state. High paying job, great house. I worked so hard to achieve perfection so... so she would be proud of me.”
Autumn tilts her head, squinting her eyes. “You sound a lot like I did, when I was younger. Always wanting to make daddy, or in your case, mommy, happy. Proud.” She rocks back on her tailbone. “You just have to realise that it really doesn’t matter what they think about you, or what anyone thinks about you, in fact, just what you think about yourself. You don’t have to be a lawyer or a doctor. You can be a barista with debt and college loans and still be good enough.”
“But I think I need to be perfect-”
“Nope. That’s your mother in there, speaking through you.” She leans forward so she’s inches from my face. Her curls tickle my forehead, and she speaks directly to my eyes. “Hello, Jonathan’s mom? Autumn here. Please get out of this nice young man’s head. He would really like to live a good life now, and it would reeeeeally help him if he could think on his own.”
“Okay, Autumn.” I chuckle. “I get it. I don’t have to be perfect.” She sits back down, beaming.
“There he is!”
We sit there in silence for a while, letting her words hang in the air like the fog that was fading away around us. I haven’t felt this way in a while. I feel almost empty, but in a good way, like everything bad in my life had just slipped away. I feel an easy smile rise to my lips.
Autumn begins to stand up, picking up her bike and steadying it.
“I should really be getting ready for my shift. But hey, Jonathan?”
“Yes?”
“Why don’t you stop by my place after my shift ends and we can look for jobs together. And if you need it, I have a pull-out couch in the living room. I have it in case my parents ever come to visit, but I haven’t seen them since college, so it’s yours if you want.”
“Thank you, Autumn. When does your shift end?”
“Nine thirty. Meet me outside Piper’s and I’ll take you to my house from there.”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
She hops onto her bike and rides away, but the happiness wafting from behind her stays. I want to be that happy, that content with life. I stare out at the lake and let her words settle in my brain. I notice the branches, sagging with dew, and the thin fog draping around the water. Everything seems so blissful.
“I’ll find a job,” I say to no one in particular. “And I’ll get to keep my apartment. Hell, maybe I’ll move into a better one. Everything will be okay.” I smile and stand. I walk back towards town, no destination, no worries, just simply walking. Maybe I’ll stop by Piper’s and have Autumn make me an iced coffee with a drizzle of caramel. Or maybe I’ll just have a coffee, no sugar. Whatever I want.