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The coffee thief

“So, what was stolen?” Albert asked me. He rubbed my shoulder lovingly and I sighed, putting my head onto his shoulder. I loved Albert and how he always made me feel better. This time, though, I just wanted to have him comfort me.

“That’s the weird thing. Everything to do with coffee,” I answered in a low voice. “Every friggin’ thing that has to do with coffee.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The thief- he, or she, took my coffee cups. The old Royal Doulton set my mother gave me. The Starbucks mugs I bought and swiped.” I ticked these items off my fingers. “The Gayo coffee powder I bought from Indonesia. The Boncafe gourmet coffee beans I bought last weekend. Even my goddamned instant coffee sachets!”

I was completely perplexed. I had found my apartment ransacked when I returned from work 2 hours ago. The strange thing was, all my valuables were still intact, left where they were. I had at least 2000 bucks in cash stashed away in my underwear drawer. The thief or thieves pulled it out but never touched them. I had a state-of-the-art hi-fi system with a HDTV and DVD player. My laptop was on the dining table. My jewelry box had been ripped apart, but everything was in there, even the antique ruby ring my grandmother had given to me.

When I called the police and they came over to inspect the crime scene, I knew they were trying hard not to laugh when I told them the thief had taken all my coffee. “Oh, and my espresso machines,” I had added.¬†Noticing one of the coppers’ incredulous look, I felt the need to add, “I love coffee. Especially espresso. So I bought¬†2 machines of my own, so I can have TWO cups of espresso at one go.” OK, so maybe I did sound weird. Or eccentric. They took my statement, took some pictures and left. They couldn’t be expected to do much anyway. Nothing truly valuable had been stolen. The only thing I couldn’t understand was why the thief had taken all my coffee, and coffee-related things.

“Maybe he or she is a coffee addict, too”, Albert offered.

“Yeah right.”

“Well, look at you. You’re a coffee addict.”

I had nothing to say to that and hung my head silently. Albert put his arm around me, squeezing my shoulders, and we walked to the nearest Starbucks.

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