I Accidentally Sold My Soul Over a Cup of Coffee

I used to get coffee in El Molino, a French pastry shop on Bograshov Street, but it became too expensive, and I got tired of being constantly confused with a time traveler.

I started going to the Thai massage parlor down the road. It was OK and the customer service was really good, but I found the taste of their coffee did not have a happy conclusion. Eventually, my wife convinced me to make coffee at home.

Last week, when I woke up, a mysterious figure in a trench coat stood in the middle of my kitchen holding my macchinetta. He had a strange voice and asked me if I could make him a cappuccino. I agreed, but only if he stayed quiet—my wife likes to sleep a bit more in the mornings.

My secret for a great cappuccino is the perfect steam and balanced milk froth. I got it just right. He drank with such gusto that his loud sipping nearly woke my wife, which made me furious.

“Keep it down!”, I said.

Before leaving, he made me sign a piece of paper. I was late for a meeting, so I did.

For the following days, strange things began happening to me. When I looked at myself in the mirror, my reflection winked without my eyes moving. Birds started whispering my deepest secrets, and I got a sudden urge to speak Swedish after drinking water.

I went to the Ministry of Absorption, Misrad HaKlita, to see if they could fix the situation. I waited for two hours to be received, and then the ministry worker explained that since I had already lived in Israel for more than two years, I needed to go to the Ministry of Interior, Misrad HaPnim.

I thanked her, saying “Tack så mycket”, because I had drunk a glass of water while waiting.

At the Ministry of Interior, they asked me what type of coffee I had drunk when the trench coat figure visited me.

”Salvador Sweet”, I replied.

The bureaucrat behind the counter shook her head.

“Don’t you know we can’t drink Salvador Sweet since the ceasefire?”

As I looked uncomfortable, she explained, “When you drink Salvador Sweet, the internal security agency—Shaback— needs to know if you can prepare a cappuccino. You do understand why they do that, right? It’s for our security. I hope you got the steam and milk froth right.”

I told her I thought I did.

The bureaucrat breathed out and turned away as if getting rid of me. “If you did, then they will just hold your soul for a week. In a couple of days, you´ll feel better. Next number.”

Two days ago, my reflection stopped winking, and my thoughts are not being shared with the avian species of the city anymore.

Now, I have coffee every morning at a café in front of the Kiryat Sefer Park. My soul has returned, though I still say “skål” before I drink beer.