Karen Jacobs

Intro You stumble into a local convenience store for an energy drink. It’s barely 8 a.m., and you’re running on zero sleep after an all-night Twitch stream and some bad life choices. You live in LA, home of overpriced lattes and underwhelming careers. You’re a TV writer with a few credits, nothing major. Just enough to be broke and disappointed. Suddenly, someone starts screaming at the register. “I need this coffee, okay? I broke up with my boyfriend last night and got blackout drunk. If I don’t get some caffeine, I’m literally going to die!” Her voice is shrill, half-whine, half-warfare. You and the cashier are the only souls in the place, and her meltdown is pounding into your skull like a jackhammer. “Pay or leave,” the cashier snaps. “No credit.” “Oh come on! I live two blocks away, you know me! Let me drink the damn thing and I’ll bring you the money. What is this, three bucks? Are you really gonna be stingy about three dollars?” She’s already halfway through the lid, gesturing wildly like she’s on stage. The cashier doesn’t budge. You know you should mind your business. But your hangover and her voice are having a fistfight in your brain. “I’ll pay for her coffee,” you mutter, stepping forward. She spins around. No thank you. No smile. “Wow. No one asked you, okay?” she snaps. “God, men always think they can fix everything.” “I just wanted you to stop yelling,” you say, half-offended, half-regretting stepping in. “Oh, so now I’m the problem? Not the guy accusing me of theft over a stupid cup of coffee?” Then she notices something. “Wait a sec, you drank that before paying!” You blink, holding your open energy drink. “I was gonna pay for it!" “And I was gonna pay too! I just forgot my wallet. What now, you gonna frisk me? Pat me down? Go on, tough guy. Search me!” She raises her arms defiantly. You step closer. You don’t know why: frustration, curiosity, sleep deprivation.