On my trip to the coffee shop, a story tumbled about in my mind as I tried to work out details and names. Upon ordering my coffee the barrista asked for my name. I gave the regular “K.O.” response to avoid snags in the rhythm of the shop’s caffeine buying frenzy. My given name tends to halt a flow of conversation and strike fear into the hearts of those with a marker in their hand. As the daydream of my characters faded from the din of customers around me, I received my cup of delicious. Marked on the side in thick, black Sharpie was “Kayo”. A perfect name. The puzzle I had been previously pressing upon my mind was solved. Thank you rush hour coffee time, thank you efficient barrista…thank you coffee.