Enzo Vitale's Literatures

The coffee tastes like shit. It could be argued that what was held inside that mug was barely coffee to begin with. Warm milk with two unstirred scoops of shitty instant coffee. Maxwell House. Enzo had no recollection of buying it. He'd entered the grocery store, blinked, and suddenly he was home with the blue tin of shitty, instant coffee. He hadn't questioned it. He hates drinking it. He takes another sip.

“You look like you need a drink,” Enzo couldn’t even begin to agree more, he just hadn’t expected to hear those words come from the man standing across from him holding his morning coffee. He looked up with narrowed eyes.