With a grin, Rachel entered the Java-Mukti coffeeshop. She gazed at the bright tapestries on the walls as she neared the front of the line.
“I want a soy latte, please,” she said to the tall barista.
“You better leave, Kvik. We don’t serve your kind here,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry. I must have misunderstood you.” Rachel grimaced. “I thought you said you don’t serve my kind here.”
“That is what I said. It’s a free country. I don’t have to serve no Kviks.”
“You know what? You’re right. It is a free country, and you’re the one who’s free to leave. Because I’m the new owner, and you’re fired!”

(What’s interesting to me about today’s story is that prejudicial slur I used. At first Rachel was going to be jewish, and then she was going to be a lesbian, but I pretty quickly realized that the slur could be about anyone that is somehow different and therefore potential prey for prejudice and bigotry. So, I decided to make up a word and have it available to stand for any group that might face discrimination.

The entire thing felt both frightening and gratifying to write. Being able to say that last sentence must feel so satisfying if and when some gets to say it or something similar.

And incidentally, I’m super proud of the name I came up with for the coffeeshop. Java-Mukti is a great name. If I owned a coffeeshop, that is what I would call it. 🙂

So, what do you think of this story? How did it leave you? I’d love to know. I’ll see you tomorrow.)