real people / gay gnats

Words by Ryli Jane

I found a dead gnat in my coffee and all I could think was how dare you? that's my coffee you little shit. if you had tried your entire tiny little life you could never have understood the emotions I feel about one tired cup of coffee on one morning I'll forget by next week. the cosmic irony of how something as short-lived as a bug or a barista on strike can ruin something for Us, the Real People who Actually Matter.

it's the day after my injection that I find rhythm in everything, from the dead bug in my iced coffee to my silly little internal monologue. dialogue? idk I'm not saying that it's iced coffee specifically to signal anything by the way, like "I'm a homosexual" or "I can afford to buy iced coffee." it's just what I brought home from my job because I need the caffeine to get up in the morning so I can go back to my job and serve homosexuals with disposable income their iced coffees. sometimes I resent the car though. not the car itself I love her she's powder blue and she gets me where I'm going. mostly to my job at the homosexual coffee place. it's the fact that I live in a big beautiful walkable city and I still have to get in my car and drive on two different interstates to get to my job at the only coffee shop in town owned by a trans person. the one that crushed a union drive in early 2020, right before covid, it was in all the papers. that was before the big Starbucks movement. and when we tried to join that wave it was deflated with concessions and compromises and hand wringing about job security before we even took it to a vote. because he owns a business so it's his right to make money. he Actually Matters. but at least he doesn't treat me like a freak, like on a personal level, because he also injects hormones into his body every week. he gets it. anyway I gotta go clock in for the next 10 hours so I can pay the hormones doctor and the faceless car insurance app.

I'm sitting in my 20 year old Camry in traffic behind someone in their 2 year old Camry and I'm thinking about how one day maybe it will be a 20 year old Camry, given to someone's grandkid because the insurance was too expensive for someone who doesn't drive anyway. plugging another hole in a dwindling retirement account. there, it's fixed. I should call her soon. I think my transness confuses her but she gave me her car anyway and I really appreciate that. she would never say anything that hurtful to or about anyone, that their transness confuses her, and I really appreciate that too.

They put a 3 hour limit on all the parking around here so now I have to leave ten minutes earlier so I can walk to work from my car and why don't I just get a job I can walk to in the first place? is not being a freak worth ten minutes of sleep? I don't know. the customers are mostly nice, which those of you who have served coffee know is a blessing. not all of the Real People are nice to the gnats at the homosexual coffee place.