The truth about latte

The blend of lies and non-fiction in my life has varied like a sweetened latte.

At once it’s all good, perfectly balanced, delicious. Then the milk has to go because it wreaks havoc on the intestines, leaving you feeling uneasy, nauseous to the verge of vomiting forth facts you can't suborn or violently passing them to be sanitized in the septic treatment of the world at large.

Next goes the sugar. First you try pseudo-sugars that leave people hearing what they think they want, but in the end are empty and unsatisfying. Ultimately, all the sweetness takes a hiatus, foregone for the apparent blunt honesty left by the strong taste of the coffee.

The no-foam soy is the deal-maker. At first it’s just a little different, but it lets the espresso pound through. The coffee overwhelms the senses while the soy milk attempts to soothe the palate. It’s the easy flow of the falsehood, chaser to the hard truth, that makes it so easy to swallow. It’s a latte, but it’s not; the beauty is the higher price it exacts.