She liked CAKE.
Of course, when it came to cake, she liked pie more.

Cake and ice cream took birthdays, she acknowledged, but pie had long since conquered the frontier of ‘a la mode.’

Drank water constantly. Like a mermaid on X. Chewed on her pencils. Painted her nails, but waited until every speck of color chipped off before repainting them.

She didn’t sleep at night. Didn’t sleep at all, she claimed, but she could occasionally be caught catnapping on the couch in the lobby. The shadows under her eyes were constant, and when she wasn’t drinking water, she was drinking coffee.

“My one overpriced, ridiculous addiction,” she called it, scowling down at the gently steaming paper cup in her hand. In the other hand would be a gently smoking cigarette. But cigarettes, she’s decided, are not ridiculous.

“If it can kill you, it’s not ridiculous. The caffeine isn’t killing me,” she would explain.

Beside, the only ‘coffee’ she drank was deemed fake, pretend. Carmel macchiatos can hardly be called real at all.