"I'll meet you there, I'm gonna get some coffee first."

While walking laboriously through the looong corridor on the fourth floor, lifting my heavy feet and noticing an ever so slight pain at my left knee, I noticed something: the coffee was kicking in.

Tunneling through my bloodstream, hitting all of the right receptors (adenosine and dopamine), I felt the elevation of life. My mind was quicker - I recalled a few patients off the top of my head which I had to stop by and see, as opposed to 1/2 hr earlier when I didn't know their names and referred to my patient list several times.

My mood was improved - I was tired, focusing on certain aches in my body; and borderline in despair - I knew I was going to be at the hospital atleast another four hours before I could go home and pass out into glorious slumber. I was also angry - recent schedule changes fucked me over this weekend, so approximately once an hour I would remind myself (by chance), become annoyed for about five to ten minutes, then continue whatever I was doing.

This state of improvement is just enough to get me through the morning. Without doubt in the past six weeks I have become physically and mentally dependent on this legal drug. Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts - they really are drug dealers: bigger cups, more sugar, and more gay deals and new trendy drinks. People will buy them, and the men and women in charge will make money and laugh and think of new ways to sell their drug.

Brooklyn and the city for that matter is great when it's nice out. Maybe I just like summer a lot.