I let out a long sigh, got out of bed, and stomped about the room to clear my head. I quickly rummaged through my overnight bag, changed into my customary sleepwear (a tank top and boxer shorts), and headed for the kitchen.
I didn't really want coffee. In the past, I had been a social drinker who enjoyed the chocolaty, non-coffee beverages offered at Starbucks. However, Carl? His demeanor was that of a hardened warrior. Caffeine in the morning was like oxygen to him. My eyes strayed to the frightening machine that sat on the counter next to the stove.
Over the years, I had seen him making coffee, and I had learned my lesson. Surely I can figure this out, right? If I were to go back to his room, fill a cup, and go to rouse him up, he would surely be awake. He wouldn't have any cause to depart thanks to the coffee. Since neither of us had to go into the office today, I figured we'd laze about all morning.
But the machine has bad intentions.