saturday morning coffee.
Seattle held many secrets in its dreary rainfall: college kids having sex in the 7-11 bathroom, a drug dealer staking out Rainier Valley for new clientele, and, worst of all, a secret agent working at the Starbucks on 5th Avenue. I had watched him for months now and every day something suspicious seemed to happen. Today, the strange behavior revolved around the chocolate syrup pump sitting surreptitiously behind neatly placed metallic coffee mugs for sale. The perfect hiding spot for seedy behavior! A woman I earmarked as pleasant-enough looking leaned over the counter cautiously, eye over her shoulder to detect any prying eyes. She whispered something to the duplicitous cashier who squinted his eyes and squished his face, as if he smelled something rancid. Perhaps it were his devious plans that smelled so foul! But alas, all that would transpire would be a few extra squirts of syrup into the woman's drink. This wasn't enough to convince me of his la