kombucha

Thinking is a useful thing, when you know how to do it right.

Not everyone without a mental flow is incapable of it, and not everyone with a sizable accumulation of thoughts in their brain folds can handle them.

But these people here, immortalized behind all the spines of books, found a way to ride the ‘mental bull’ without getting taken on his horns.

Instead, they shed their horns on him, tamed him, and locked him between book covers.

The feeling of groundhog day took hold of her as she realized she was sitting in the same place in the library at the same time as yesterday.

The only difference was her notebook, which had clearly more written pages than yesterday.

But otherwise she was in a deja vu or a cosmic hold or a carpe diem merry-go-round.

The kombucha spritzer tasted like herbal tea after a pack of spearmint chewing gum: a musty, fresh finish that didn’t allow for a clear definition.

A moment later the college block was deserted.

The literary time warp continued.

Without her.

As long as the perfect definition of kombucha wasn’t her own,

she was denied a title:

writer.