(short story)

Lena stared at the coffee machine, deeply conflicted. She was in a battle of the highest order: espresso or cappuccino? Both had their merits, but both were also incredibly demanding.

Espresso, she thought, was like the superhero of coffee. Strong, reliable, gets straight to the point. But, oh, cappuccino… It had that frothy, milky charm, like a warm hug in a mug. It was the kind of coffee you could sip slowly while pondering life’s deeper questions—like why socks always disappear in the laundry.

“Espresso,” Lena muttered, tapping the button. She was a woman of action, after all. The machine whirred to life, and she proudly held her tiny cup, ready to conquer the day.

But then, as she sipped, her eyes wandered to the cappuccino button. A soft, guilty longing crept into her heart.

“Just one more,” she whispered.

Ten minutes later, she had both. And a full-blown identity crisis.

Maybe tomorrow she’d try something completely different—tea.