Chapter Fifty Four; Don't go my Love!

What?

When I heard my love was leaving I was in absolute and utter disbelief.

Not another loss. Not another lover entering my life only to depart like a thief in the night, leaving my heart broken and aching. Extracting all of the delicious sweetness from my life.

I don’t know if I can take much more of this. As if this year hasn’t been difficult enough. Now this?

I can not believe this is happening. It’s the kind of tragedy that is absolutely going to leave such an emotional scar that I may never recover. A development of such shocking proportions I don’t know if I can even type it out loud.

Here goes.

Are you ready?

The Starbucks two blocks from my house . . .

IS CLOSING!!!

Someone say it isn’t so. Where is Ashton Kutcher? Am I being punked? How is this possible? Someone bring me two shots of espresso straight up. I feel faint.

Starbucks? My Starbucks?

This is a nightmare.

Oh sure, prior to 2003 I’d never even heard of Starbucks or seen the mermaid logo that would soon come to symbolize sweet caffeinated intoxication. But sometime around 2004, my Midwestern town was infiltrated and I haven’t been the same since.

Cunning corporate executives backed by an ambitious business plan and a herd of advertising executives slowly invaded every neighborhood on the planet overnight. And mine was no exception. Within days, a pleasure palace of fresh roasted breakfast blend and Venti Caramel Macchiatos was erected just a scone's throw from my home.

It wasn't long before I was one of the millions brainwashed to believe that it is just not a good day without my happiness in a cup. My warm portable liquid hug. My Starbucks Grande Cinnamon Dolce Latte (with whip!).

But apparently, these same execs must have sat down at a conference table lately and with one fell swoop of a dry erase marker, revised their plan. And crossed my Starbucks off their map. Erased it forever.

Bastards.

Thanks. Thanks a lot.

Thanks for your crap planning. Thanks for getting me hooked on your drug like substance and then yanking it away, forcing me into whip withdrawal and leaving me to suffer the ice cold frappuccino-induced shakes all alone on the street corner where my shrine to sanity once stood.

Please know I will never forget you, my local Starbucks. I will look back on the memories of our relationship with fond recollection. I will remember the good times. Our early morning meetings, our precious first sips, our stolen moments of joy (available for a mere $4.13 at your drive through).

My heart may recover from this life-altering loss with time, I know, I know . . .

And even though this is goodbye, my love. Just know . . .

My nieghborhood will never again be as sweet as it was, when you were here.