Warm rays of light hit his face. He scrunched his nose and stretched his body. Not ready for work. Not ready to get out of bed. Coffee. Coffee will help. Cold air hit his skin as he removed the sheets from his body. Coffee. Need to make coffee. He walked out of his bedroom, through the halls filled with picture frames and towards the kitchen.

When he reached the coffee machine he smiled a little. He could feel the rush his blood would get. He could feel his chills being replaced by the warm embrace of coffee. Awake, alert, and working. He rummaged through the cabinets trying to find what he needed. Filters, coffee, sugar, a spoon, milk, water, and a mug. As he finished setting his materials on the counter, he pulled the coffeemaker closer to him. He put the filter inside and filled it with the small coffee crystals. The aroma of the crystals made him anxious for the coffee to hit his bloodstream. He poured in the crystal clear water and set the coffee jar back onto its place. His pupils dilated as he watched the coffee being filtered out. The excitement made goosebumps rise on his pale skin. When the coffee was done being filtered, he began to pour it into his mug smelling it once more. He quickly prepared his coffee as he had learned to when he was just a junior in high school. All those late nights studying were boosted by the caffeine provided by coffee. He scooped up some of his coffee with his spoon and took his handy lighter out from his pants pocket. He heated his coffee over slight heat until it was ready for him. He felt around for a syringe on the countertops and injected himself with the coffee he had just made.

As soon as the crystal liquid hit his bloodstream, he could feel the rush. His heartbeat pounded quickly against his chest. He only felt alive when he was making coffee. The only way to live for him was to indulge and to sell. As he walked towards the living room to sit down on his couch  the foil covering the windows fell down, lighting up the living room. It was easier to see the glass from empty picture frames scattered on the floor, digging into his skin. Allowing him to see the bodies of customers sprawled out on the floor. Producing enough light to let him see burned stains on the carpet. However, there wasn’t enough light for him a look at his life headed towards a dead end.