^{Photo by Alex Padurariu on Unsplash}

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"Oh, please, are you seriously going to wear that? You'd better wear the olive green sweater." He insisted again.

"Hell, can't you just let me decide?"

A guffaw rippled through the air.

"I'm just giving you an outfit tip. And are you seriously going to wear those hideous shoes? You look better in white."

Great, a fashionista cup of coffee, I thought as I twisted my eyes.

I don't know at what point it happened, maybe it was too much alcohol in my blood with narcoleptics and too much coffee in my system. My friend Rachel's party was pretty rough, I think I saw Jeff throwing up several times on one of the living room floors.

Not being a moderate, I decided to mix in some meds and the rest is history for me. I spent a couple of days with insomnia, migraines, and half-blurred vision. The palms of my hands and the soles of my feet itched and my neck was always sweaty.

I started giving off smells; stupefying aromas that transformed into something I can't quite explain, until one morning I made myself a delicious cup of coffee and that's when my dementia began.

"Hey, wait! What do you think you're doing?" said a sudden voice as I tried to sip the coffee from the cup. "Can't you see you can scramble my brain?"

I tossed the cup onto the counter without spilling it, gawking wild-eyed and with my heart almost paralyzed.

"What... what the hell?" I stammered. "A-cause... you.... you..."

"Yes, I'm a cup of coffee and I'm talking to you..." He uttered, at last, my tongue frozen.

"It can't be, it's impossible!"

"You know what can't be? That a person would put that much sugar in a simple cup of coffee. Dude, it'll give you a diabetic coma."

I tried to relax and calmly analyze the situation, though my mind was still disassembled.

"How is it possible that you can talk?" I asked.

"I don't know, you tell me. But now that I'm here, I'm going to make your life counselor, since you really are a mess."

^{Photo by Photo Boards on Unsplash}

I scrunched up my face in astonishment.

"What are you talking about?"

"'Bro, your kitchen is filthy. You've got eye gunk built up in your eyes that look like two pools of gunk, and your breath; my God, I can tell you don't invite girls in here."

"It's Sunday morning, it's obvious I'm going to be disheveled," I replied, already feeling like he was annoying me.

"That's not reason enough, I'll show you, take me to see the rest of the house."

I wasn't sure but I obeyed. I gave him a tour of everything there and each opinion I made was worse than the last.

"I'm not going to do what you say, you're just a talking cup of coffee, you're not real. You're a figment of my imagination, generated perhaps by narcoleptics and too much caffeine," I made it clear.

"Ah...you think so?" he snorted in a sarcastic tone. "Then why didn't you just dump me down the sink?"

I was thoughtful at his question.

"Well... I..."

"You know I'm real, that's why you have me in here because I'm the most interesting thing that's ever happened in your life. Go ahead, you can get rid of me, but when will something like this ever happen to you again? When will you ever get the chance to hold something fantastic in your hands again and apart from that give you advice?"

I was completely speechless.

"You see? Now let's move on."

The next few days were a torture of discord. I tried to ignore the voice in the coffee cup, but every time I made a decision, he crumbled it. My diet, my way of ordering things, and now my way of dressing; everything she wanted to control.

"You'll never get a girlfriend if you dress like that. You should be more..., wait, what are you doing?"

I couldn't take it anymore, I grabbed the cup and poured it down the sink. I felt my frustrations and anger drain away down the cold brown river. I gritted my teeth as if something hurt and finally felt a great relief.

I took a deep breath, expecting to hear the voice again, but it didn't happen. I felt a lot of peace. Now I could manage better and do the things I wanted to do. I took the olive green sweater and the white shoes that the cup of coffee had recommended; the truth is that he was right, it was a good combination.

Just as I was about to claim victory, the voice suddenly came back into my head. "See? I told you they didn't look so bad on you."

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THE END