Sometimes a Thing is Just a ThingMature

"Satijat, how ya doin' today buddy?" Dashell greeted the man behind the counter with an uncharacteristic cheer.

"Very good, thank you my friend! I hope you can say the same. What brings you to my humble establishment in the middle of such a fine morning?" came the peaceful, spirited reply.

Satijat was a slight man, trim and lean. Even at the peak of his thick black mass of curls he barely measured to Dashell's shoulder. What Satijat lacked in physical stature he more than made up for in soul. His presence was like a force of nature, uniquely palpable and moving. Satijat was one of the few, if not only, individuals that Dashell could rely on to effectively counter his intense sardonic moods. Seeing the two of them come together and interact was to witness a subconscious fray between masters of emotional polarity. That they were close friends there was no doubt, and Dashell knew full well that a visit to Satijat would always set him straight.

Dashell smiled slyly.

"Aahhh! You can't fool me, old dog.  From the angle of your mouth and the mischievous glint in your eye I can tell exactly what you are up to. Even the way you tilt your head gives you away! Come, take a seat. You know you are always welcome to avoid that soul-stealing cesspool of corporate cubicle purgatory right here at my counter. Take this." Satijat served Dashell a steaming fresh mug of yerba mate. "Special blend just arrived today, and straight from my new French press. Filtered water of course. I wouldn't want any of my associates contracting disease or dulling their minds with the fluorinated garbage that comes out of the taps."

Dashell wrapped his fingers around the warm handcrafted mug, the wave of comfort rising up through his arms to embrace his torso, neck, and head a welcome contrast to the chill walk. He slouched a bit over the bar, inhaling deeply the moist aromatic wafts of vaporous tea. "Cheers, mate." Dashell raised his beverage in salute, tapped it solidly on the countertop, and followed with a healthy pull.

Satijat mounted a padded stool across from his welcomed guest. "So, Dash, what pains you?"

The End

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