Zooey noticed that Fritz wasn’t carrying his notebook, and he appeared more disheveled than usual, yet that smile was still chiseled onto his face. He panted momentarily before exclaiming, “I got a job!” He ran to the small kitchen to fill the largest mug (his inspirational cup as he called it) with the coffee she had made hours ago.

He drank it without any thought and paced between the balcony and back to the coffee pot, refilling every time he felt a surge of emotion coming on. All Zooey could do was look at him with the usual gaze of amusement, sitting in her undergarments on the yellow daisy patterned sofa, waiting for Fritz to explain.

After finishing the entire pot of coffee, which equalled around ten cups, Fritz sat across from Zooey on the violet velvet covered armchair and fidgeted with his hands. “Well,” he started, “I didn’t technically get a job…”