Lost But Never Found: My Life As An Unclaimed Novack Drink

My passage began at dawn this Thursday morning. Matter of fact, it was precisely 7:53 AM when my presence was first solicited. I faintly recall hearing a voice, sweet as thick molasses, calling after me for the first time ever: “Can I have a venti iced caramel macchiato? Swipe, please.” I knew then that my time had come. 

Milk. Syrup. Espresso. Caramel. The sacred components came together to concoct my rich substance. “Venti Iced Caramel Macchiato” was my name. It sounded nice. And comforting. And just what someone needed. With that, I was more than ready to meet my requester. At last, I was placed on the crowded counter, earnestly facing the chaotic ocean of movement and chatter that surrounded me. Swarms of hands constantly emerged from the sea of decaffeinated creatures. Hands desperately reached far behind me, while others barely extended to take hold of the few cups in front of me. I witnessed with jealousy as all the other cups were quickly reunited with their own orderers, ultimately leaving me at the very front of the counter. I silently hoped at least one of the reaching hands in front of me belonged to my destined one, but as time passed, my yearning appeared more and more unrealistic. A handful of people dashed my hopes, absentmindedly grabbing me to see if I was their order, just to put me right back down on the cold granite after realizing I was in fact not. I watched my eldest sibling, Venti Iced Vanilla Chai Latte with Oat Milk and Two Pumps of Brown Sugar Syrup, and I witnessed the glee in their eyes as they got taken by their requester. They were both ecstatic—the pure bliss product of meeting their suitor evident to everyone lucky enough to witness the emotional reunion. I waited and hoped to find my own version of that soon.

The clock ticked, the masses dispersed, and I grew unsteady. It had been a long time since my sister, Grande Vanilla Latte, got picked up. I don’t mean to sound envious, but I have been replaying the memory in my head, and I have yet to comprehend how it is that she was picked up and I was left behind. I even got ordered before her… She’s a goddamn vanilla latte for Caramel’s sake! Agh, calm down Macchiato, calm down. Think of foam, thick fluffy foam… 

But when even my youngest brother, Tall White Hot Chocolate With Extra Whipped Cream and Mocha Sauce Drizzle On Top The Thirty-Seventh, was taken by a ‘26, I realized how foolish I had been. Of course, no one wanted me anymore, my ice started to melt a while ago—I wasn’t the same substance I was in the beginning when I was first freshly poured. But there was simply no chance that they were going to abandon me. I mean, those are the types of stories you hear as a tiny espresso, but you never think it’s ever going to actually happen to you. And they CHOSE me—me! I was SPECIFICALLY CHOSEN. Though maybe they never planned on picking me up in the first place. Maybe they just meant to spend their breakfast swipe, but panicked in the process and ordered a drink without actually wanting it, thinking it wouldn’t hurt anyone. Well, I’ll tell you what. It hurt me. 

If you are out there listening to this, I just need to know—why would you do this to me? You knew this was my entire life’s mission, my one devotion, my sole duty. I thought you might understand or even share this sensation, but now I see that our impending reunion was never your intention. This was more than just a mere verbal mistake you never intended to fix, wasn’t it?… You know what? I’m actually grateful you never came back for me. I would rather remain here, betrayed yet stoic for a thousand years, than be left in the hands of the rancid human being you turned out to be.

Goodbye forever.

Editor’s Note: At press time, the macchiato was given out for free.

– MC ’25