My feet hurt so badly that I don’t even want to walk from my car to my front door. Also- I had to make myself a latte before closing just so I would have enough energy to take a shower when I do eventually make it to inside the house. How is it that in only six months, I forgot how exhausting being a barista at one of the busiest stores in the district is? Yet I’m so glad to be back there, working on my days off and staying hours later than scheduled. The relationship I have with this job stands out from the ones I’ve had with the other nineteen (literally nineteen) jobs I’ve had. The love-hate portion of it is so profound. But this time around, I see it from a set of eyes that have become more enlightened since the last. In the moments when I see what brings us closer to hate, before letting that take over, I remember what bring us closer to love. Such as right now, in my car, with throbbing feet, covered in mocha, with a hint of satisfaction.