Close Calls Behind the Counter

When I’m at work, 

behind the espresso machine, 

it’s the only place I feel in control. 

My fingers don’t tremble as much anymore as it used to.

As long as I’m playing the act, 

I can shut down the feelings

the emotions that brew inside my head when I’m not wearing this mask.

But every now and then, 

something happens outside of work.

Something I can’t control. 

And it breaks through.

The trembles return. 

More visible. 

More real.

Sometimes it’s so apparent that a customer notices. 

They ask if I’m okay. 

I laugh it off. 

Say I’ve had too much coffee. 

Or not enough sleep. 

Or maybe I’m just tired.

They nod. 

They smile. 

They believe me.

They don’t know that in my head, 

I have both hands desperately holding the mask in place.

I’ve had so many close calls. 

Moments where the truth almost spilled over the counter.

But nobody ever doubted the act.

And maybe that’s the most terrifying part

how easy it is to hide in plain sight