Whenever I feel the need for a hot drink in the middle of cold streets of this city, I just walk into Starbucks. It funny how easy it is to get used to bad tasting coffee. By the time it's my turn and the nice lady asks for my name, I hesitate for a split-second and say my 'other name'. It's not in my ID, nor is it a name I would turn my head to as I am being called. But somehow, in this strange moment, it feels like this name is the easier choice. It's like I'm me, just under another title, different but the same.

Not me at all, or what I might have been if I haven't been so stubborn.