$70M CoffeeNever Enough

The inventor had a calm in his old eyes, A look that said, "My treasure isn't tied to market size." He spoke of physics, of airflow, of a pressure he could prove, While I was calculating multiples, planning my next move. He lived inside the beauty of a simple, perfect thing, I lived inside a spreadsheet, and the chaos it could bring. He named a number that felt more like myth than it did math, A casual apocalypse upon a well-worn garden path. And the contract ink was blacker than the coffee that it bought, A transaction for a feeling that I'd only ever sought. I'm standing in my kitchen now, in the quiet of the dawn, Holding seventy-million dollars... and a feeling that is gone. The house has too much silence, the security's a ghost, My own reflection in the chrome is who I fear the most. I’m paying for a life that I don't have the time to live, I have nothing left to ask for, and nothing left to give. This plastic tube is honest, it does just what it says, It frees the hidden flavor from the prison of the dred...ges. I bought it for the simple truth that it was said to hold, A perfect cup of clarity... for a story getting old. And the contract ink was blacker than the coffee that it bought, A transaction for a feeling that I'd only ever sought. I'm standing in my kitchen now, in the quiet of the dawn, Holding seventy-million dollars... and a feeling that is gone. Is this the top? This cold and quiet peak? Where the silence is so heavy... You can barely even speak... You can have everything... and it's not enough... Is it just a different kind of "not enough"?