‘One cold brew with two shots hazelnut and a dash of oat milk’ Ahmed muttered to the beaming barista. How unfitting. No one has the right to be that cheerful at six in the morning.

‘And who will that be for?’ questioned the ever grinning coffee distributor.

‘Uh… Ahmed’ was the slightly stuttered reply Ahmed gave.

‘Okay uh Ahmed, that’ll be ready by the counter’ the cheery bugger managed in between guffaws at this ridiculously repulsive joke.

Ahmed brushed off that awkward interaction and set off to find a nesting spot to wait for the glorified bean juice. He settled on a sofa near the towering window overlooking a blossoming scenery. People ambled leisurely by and the air seemed thick with a morning dew. Ahmed breathed in the cold air and his breath fell perfectly in tune with the Mother Nature. A deep sense of nirvana came over Ahmed as the new day washed over. Waves of calm lapped at his feet. Swish. Froth. Swish.

Crash.

A tidal wave. Unexpected but in a much more real sense, fully expected. Sadness tended to hit like a car crash the moment Ahmed felt under control. Yet this time it felt like a truck collision on the freeway, the vehicle was totalled. Ahmed sat with this feeling, knowing exactly what was coming next, dreading it with every inch of his body.

First the heavy breathing, the stifling ball that sat stagnant in your throat. Heavy, furiously beating heart. Perspiration. Wanting to scream but not having the…

Voice.

Ahmed heard a voice cut through the third panic attack of this week.

‘Sir? Will you be picking up your drink?’ the wretched beaming barrister had approached Ahmed at this unfortunate moment.

He pushed past the ball of sunshine and ran towards the bathroom. Locking himself in a cubicle, Ahmed stared into the mirror and began the gruelling process.

Remember what Dr Fraser said. Count three breathe in, count five breath out. You can do this Ahmed come on. All the money you spent on the stupid therapy shit and you can’t even breathe? The one thing you have to do as a human and you can’t do that? Useless, you’re fucking useless.

Ahmed slumped over, bursting into tears. Salty oceans poured down his face, a pathetic sight but lamentable nonetheless. Ironically, Ahmed should’ve expected this. I wonder why he even stepped into that coffee shop in the first place. The moment something good happened, something bad had to follow. One of the many curses of his mental state. Should’ve just sat at home. Maybe he’ll learn one day.