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There weren't a whole lot of ads for that sort of thing, but there were a few for web-page design and graphic artists -- both of which Andy could do. He pulled out a pen and circled them, then reached for his coffee, figuring it would be a little cold and need a warm-up in the microwave. He was surprised when his hand wrapped around a mug that was still warm.

He sipped the coffee and found that it was still -- even after fifteen minutes of scanning the classifieds -- the perfect temperature. He looked at the cup as though it contained poison. Wisps of steam rose up around the rim and curled around his hand like tentacles. He decided that he must not have been reading the paper for as long as he thought he had. He took another long drink of his coffee and set it back down on the table.

On the other side of the coffee shop, a young woman in a business suit got up and left a newspaper on her seat. Andy had been reading The Blade -- a local paper -- but this one looked like the Plain Dealer. He got up and hurried over to grab it. No sense in letting the paper go to waste just because she left it sitting on her seat, he thought, and hurried back to his table.

When he got there, he noticed the mug was full again. "Damn," he thought, "she's quick." He sat down and looked back over at the girl behind the refill counter. She was filling up a to go cup for some guy with a huge beard and piercing blue eyes. He lifted up the mug and tasted it -- perfect, right down to the brown powder he had put in it. He remembered leaving about half of a glass when he went to get the paper, and it seemed odd to him that she would be able to get both the temperature and the fixins perfect from half a cup. He had been to a good many greasy spoons in his day, and even the most experienced and seasoned waitress would tell you that it can't be done with any consistency. He took a big drink of it and set it down on the table, unfolding his paper to the classifieds.

He scanned the ads for a while, noting the ones that seemed interesting, and ignoring the duplicates, the whole time, drinking his coffee. When he was finished with the paper, he folded it up and placed it on the table next to his mug -- which was full and steaming.

At first he wasn't sure about what he was seeing. He blinked at his mug, his jaw hanging open. He looked quickly over to the refill counter to see if the girl was over there. She was, but she was in the middle of making a cappuccino -- she couldn't have filled his mug. He looked back at the mug. It was still steaming -- hot and fresh. He picked it up and tasted it -- perfect. He looked back over at the girl. She wasn't paying any attention to him, so he turned back to his table.

The mug sat on the table next to the newspaper, steaming -- like any normal mug, but to Andy, it seemed to take on a strange appearance. The clear glass of the mug seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the coffee house. He poked a finger at it. The mug slid across the table and the coffee sloshed a bit.